They had already left, I had to run for a full minute before I saw them on the horizon, and run for another before they saw me and decided to slow down. I kept running until I was right behind the cart, and could hear the hooves of the four horses upfront. Someone pulled open the canvas for me, and I grabbed the lip of the back of the cart to pull myself up and in. I thereafter proceeded to collapse into the hay bedding on the bottom of the cart and relished in the relaxing feeling of not using my lungs to run for my good health. This tranquil moment lasted for all of one second, before Calkolh kicked my ribs, causing me to jerk up straight with pain.

"What the Skies were you thinking?", My brother's inquiry dripped with accusation and humor, but I knew it was born of concern. Unfortunately, it was hard to answer while gasping in pain. Unfortunately, he also knew I was faking it.

Before he could deliver a swift kick again, Feyion jumped in to stop him. I rolled over and got to my feet with a grimace and a grin. My lungs were burning.

" He helped me get my pouch back, brother!", came Feyion's high squeaked benediction. "The kids took it from me after they saw me buying jerky from a hawker." He shook the small sac as close as he could get to Calkolhs face for emphasis, the coins rattling around in the leather along with the portrait. "See?"

Calkolh looked away from me, looking down at little Fey and squatted on his heels. "Are you OK?" Fey gave a small nod, his white-blond hair dashing past his eyes. "And they didn't take anything?" He nodded again. "Good,", he said, hugging him close and squeezing him tight until he squealed, "now go sit down."He turned with a smile and sat down next to a kind but firm Deerea, two years my senior and like an older sister to all of us.

As I turned away, Deerea asked Feyion bluntly, "I hoped you saved some jerky for me." I smiled and turned, happy with how things had worked out, a smile that faded as soon as I saw the look on my brother's face.

"What?", I asked with feigned innocence.

He raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"What?" , I repeated, a little agitated this time. Whereas I was always wild and seen as unreserved, he was always perceived as more mature. Only a year older than me, we were both tall ( though he is taller by an inch), and we both had dark hair, but that's just about where the resemblance stopped. His hair was straight and so dark brown that unless you were a hands width away from his face you could swear it was black. Mine was shoulder length and dead black no matter what your proximity. It grew in coils, and I always had it pulled back and tied up. My skin is brown, in between ash and oak, while his- though not pale- is as tan as the color of sand. His eyes were brown, and mine were either gray or black. And though my skin was more tanned, beyond that we didn't look too far apart. His eyebrows may be high up, my lips more full. We both had a slight build, his maintained by armed training with Grims - elemental manipulators of light, sound, metal and life- while mine was maintained with chopping wood, cutting planks, and frequent fights. Or scuffles as Sariya calls them. Ever since Duran, the oldest, left the orphanage, among the kids his authority has been second only Johon and the caretakers. And with Johon being occupied with becoming Sargent of Captain Patrol, Culkolh was regarded as the Authority figure in the orphan. Especially since he was training with Grims. But he knew that none of that mattered to me, no matter how impressive, because he would always be my brother.

"What the Skies were you thinking?", he hissed quietly, " You could have gotten in serious trouble fighting- maybe even gotten retained from the lumber mill! No pay! Why did you engage them?"

"I wouldn't have gotten retained, " I responded casually, "It wasn't that serious-"

"You know how high of a standard your lumber guild has!", He screamed, "And Coulins parents would have had you taken down even if the guild didn't do it themselves! Your lack of ability to use your head instead of what is in between legs is what gets men killed!"

"It's not like I had a choice, " I shot back, now heated. I wasn't just mad because he was, I was mad because he was half right. "I was defending myself! I had to-"

"You didn't have to do anything! You wanted to! Wanted to show them up, wanted to humiliate them, and apparently, you didn't care for the consequences."

"They took Feyions things," I said, pointing to my adoptive brother for emphasis, "They bully him constantly, and would have kept going unless-"

"Your so damned impulsive!", Calkolh shouted, taking a step toward me, " Do you think I'm incriminating you for helping our brother? That I'm mad at you for his sake?", He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, " No, idiot, I'm not. I'm mad that you didn't think before you decided to go mad. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?"

"It's not like I had a choice!"

"Of course you had a choice," he said sighing, "You always have a choice. What about the fact that the gate was not a full fifty paces away. You could have left the scene with no repercussions. What about- "

I was now more than pissed. The fact that he lost his fire for the argument as if it wasn't even worth his time, as if it wasn't worth the effort. As if everything I was saying was weak, unsupported.

"Why won't you get it? I did it to get them away from Feyion! Why are you skinning me full for this-"

"Because he's not wrong," said Deerea, "just listen."

"You are always impulsive, ready to move to engage a situation but never to get it resolved, " said Terira, my long and dark-haired, green-eyed sister. She was junoesque and regal, beautiful to a fault, never went to the Ode of Fall without a boy on her arm. She acted like a queen in every sense she could as a poor orphan, but she was rarely denied. "And I'm sure you sought first to fight instead of a more substantial solution. As you always do. "

"Did you think that he would follow you past the gates?" I didn't respond."Well, did you?" Refusing to meet Calkolhs eyes, I looked away and grumbled a no."Did it occur to you that you could at least tell a guard? Or that, once you got the pack, you could have just left with Fey to find the lot of us?" I still didn't look at him. " Or at the very least, fought him in a place not so public, so wouldn't get into so much trouble?"

I still didn't say anything. He took another step to me so that he was only a hand from my face. "Look at me." I looked him in the eyes. My dark grey matched his dark brown with feigned equal intensity. In truth, I was mollified. "I need you to think beyond your impulsiveness. I need you to see and look beyond. Please. We are orphans, our family name holding no power. Had you seriously hurt him, his parents could have had you removed from us. Taken. Where would you go after? They could have you detained by the weight of their blood and coin purse."

This was true and I knew it. They were a very rich and strong family- they helped establish the city guard, helped protect us until we could connect to Kara. The name Orvon was well known among the guards and government. And guilds. Even if the lumber liked me enough to keep me, they would have little to do against the power of Courin Orvon, the head of the family. And we had no way to combat that, as we were literal nobody's, and we could not combat them.

"This, " said Culkolh, "Is our family now, and you must think of them as so. We could not have you taken from us, brother. " The silence in the cart was heavy, its oppressiveness pulling me into quiet submission. " We have all lost, we should not have to lose more." Then he smiled. "Beyond that, had you gotten your ass kicked, we wouldn't have pulled you out of the shit heap."

"And as it is, you smell like a dung boy, " said regal Terira, putting emphasis on the word dung to try and scold our brother for his langue. Deerea nodded her assent along with half the cart.

He stuck his nose in the air in a prim impression and exaggeration of a princess, "Madam."

"Well a least I'm no klazomanic, " I fired at Culkolh with a small smile of my own, " All that shouting must have broke the eardrums of the horses,"

"Yet it was you who did the most screaming, you cow."

"Ah, but Kuxalo, kirlk cur gebn,", said Terira with a mischievous smirk, and sent all of the people, including Groon, into a fit of laughter, who by now had heard the story that had circulated the village multiple times. The phrase kirlk cur gebn translates into Common somewhere around "Your good butt." It came from some traveling Alteran woman, who claimed to want to adopt me because I had a nice butt. Of course, I wasn't given over, and for the longest time we couldn't tell if she was joking or not. I didn't know what it meant though, so for days, they let me go around telling multiple people, including grown and drunk men that I had a wonderful ass. Yeah, I know, I know. For my 14th fall last year, they threatened to buy me a donkey if I didn't pick up all the house chores for a week. When I claimed we were too poor for that, they just grinned. They knew. I did the house chores.

---

Groon dropped us off in the village, on the way back to his farm from selling his wares. One of his two sons, Gerion, help run the farm. We said our goodbyes in parting and headed to the orphan home. We walked past the first few houses, the home on the outskirts of the small village. It was surrounded by plants, bushes, and herbs. Two floors, wood and stone, and it looked like home. Sariya said it used to belong to a merchant family, but they had moved out some years after fortifying the house. Some bad blood between trades. It was given to her on their way out of the kingdom. We all walked into the house, slipping off shoes and whatnot else by the door. To our left was the dining room, at the back on the left was Sariya's room. To mid hall on the right was the handy room; we sewed clothes, fix wooden furniture, the like. And farther down the hall on the right, the bathing room. We walked into the dining room and told the little ones to sit down. The small hearth in the room kept the place reasonably warm, even in the winter season. There was already some bread being kept warm on a stone plate by the coals. I walked through the door on the far side of the room to the Hearth Room. The hearth room was the room of the house that had the largest Hearth I had seen, at least three spans across. When it was full of wood, the heat warmed the whole house, which to us was the only purpose. The room itself was somewhat large, with on the left side being a cabinet full of pots, pans, knives, and slates we had gathered for her over the years. She put her herbs and few spices on the top of the cabinet and left quilts strewn all about the Hearth room floor. And as of now, she was using the Hearth for cooking a stew, it's aroma begging us home before we had walked through the door. I walked behind Sariya and wrapped my arms about her in a soft but quick hug. She was a mature woman that looked young, yet somehow you could not doubt her age. Her hair was dark, wavy, skin fair. She was skin, her shoulders always held as high as her cheekbones, and an oval round smooth face. Her eyes shed not a thread of dignity but had held all the strong grace of a mother in Onkira. She was beautiful, had caught the eyes of many an admirer throughout every feast and celebration, but lived for her adoptive children. We often got jobs to bring home coin, hunted, and even farmed at times to provide for ourselves.

She is the only mother I've ever had.

Terira and Calkolh came up behind me, giving hugs to our adoptive mother as well, while Deera's strong voice elicited order and laughter equally among the young ones in the dining room. Sariya looked back at each hug with a smile and gave me a look of reproach as I dipped my finger into the broth to taste it.

"Grab the bowls and put them upon the table, would you? And Calkolh, Kuxalo, come an take this pot out the small hearth. Keep it warm." Sariya's voice was soft but firm, and clear through years of raising children. As Terira gathered eight bowls of wood from beneath the cupboard and walked out to the dining room, Sariya grabbed another loaf of bread and walked out into the dining hall leaving my brother and me to carry the pot out to the dining room by ourselves of course, and with due haste. I looked at Calkolh, he looked back, add we nodded, in unison lifting the large pot and carrying it through the door to the dining room, walked to the little hearth, and hung the pot from the top of two iron bars driven into the stone of the hearth. The family rushed forward, older ones scooping helpings of stew themselves while the smaller ones asked the big ones for help. Everyone slowly filed back to their chairs at the table, take fair chunks of bread from the loaf in the middle of the table. I raised my bowl to my lips and took a sip of broth and meat. I closed my eyes to savor the pleasure of the warmth flowing through my bowels. It tasted amazing; I had yet to eat since I had my break while working at the lumber mill.

There was but one person at the table that had a more ravenous hunger than me, and that was my brother. He drank and ate the stew and bread voraciously, wolfing down gulp after gulp. And it made sense - Grims were supposed to be the most elite of elite, warriors that could alone take down a score of well-armed and trained soldiers. He was training to be one of them, mastering powers within the bending of sound and light, making metal meld and move to his will, and obtaining the energy that fueled even life itself. Kara was the only nation that still supported using them in there armies and other operations, and even that was risky. Grims in other nations had long ago rebelled, rumored to have started there own hidden nation of their own. They now hunted down people with abilities beyond that of a mage or a Caster. I didn't know the name of them, but I did know that they and their kind were outlawed in Kara and many other nations. Grims seemed desperate to hunt them to extinction. Soul eaters. The Soul eaters; that what they were called in taverns.

Grims were like living wraiths weaponized - they could fade from your eyes in broad daylight, move and kill without a sound, and pull life from your body, cause trees, and vines to grow for a living body, ripping through flesh and throats before your realized you were dead. Human blades. They had been training my brother relentlessly, always commenting on his untapped potential.

He was a prodigy.

Sariya watched us both devour our food with a soft slight smile. She didn't know that I was watching, or that I knew that we may not have enough food three days from now because we were running out of money to feed everyone.

Dinner passed with quiet talk and laughter, and the fire faded with the people leaving the table to retire to our rooms, silence overtaking the house under the still stars.

---

I walked softly in the wooded lands by our home. The late-night air was still, dark but yet not overly oppressive. I believe that came from years hunting in the same forest, knowing the land in your backyard. It became a second home.

I was hunting, though at night not wise, there would be no other time to do so within my grasp. Calkolh was often too busy training and studying to hunt, and if not he preferred to rest for when he would. And though I can't see as well at night, my eyesight had improved by the light of the moon far more than others. Seeing at night was easier for me than some said it should rightly be. In any case, I was more likely to find a predator than prey at this hour, but anything would help us last through the week. I walked briskly, knowing that my time out here would be all too short. My half spear haft was in one hand, the other holding a knife, sling at my hip. The knife had come from Groon, given to me from one of the items his boys had left when they moved farther inland. The spear haft had come from Calkolh, who got it from a solider coming home from a garrison. It was broken three feet from the head, heavy and thick, the spearhead at least six inches. I had grown accustomed to its weight, and taking it out on hunts though I rarely used it for hunting. The branches and trees painted a twisted shadowed image in the night, trees passing me by too fast before I realized I was running. I didn't know why but I didn't stop. I looked up at the stars, soft souls in an endless abyss twinkling their brilliance in the night. I adjusted my course northeast, plunging deeper into the woods. My feet were swift and tireless on the faded path I had made for myself. It seemed the more I ran, the less tired I felt. The feeling was exhilarating.

I had been running for a long while, long enough for me to be feeling the fatigue kick in, when a heard a bellow sound out amid the twisted trees and branches. I slowed, then stopped, listening to the once again still trees and wood around me. I didn't have to wait long. Another angry bellow sounded again, a bear. A loud crash of thicket and branches ensued, and the bear roared in pain. A pair of feral growls sounded, this sounding nothing like a bear, but more feline and predatory. I ran towards it. I can't explain why, or what drew me, but I ran. The growls sounded once again, and this time accompanied by a wet thunk. The bear roared once more. I picked up the pace, my already labored and ragged breathing exacerbating. I ran on. The sounds intensified. I ran faster, forcing myself to my limit. And as I rounded a large tree in front of me, I stopped dead, struggling to take in and process what was before me.

In front of me, there was a space between the trees large enough to be distinguished but too small to be called a clearing. The uneven ground dipped sharply, dropping to a lower level thirty paces away from where a large bear continued fighting alone large cat. Not ten spans away, there was a large, dark mound where another large cat lay, I assume the hunting partner. But something was wrong. It was too large, and the dark dead mound of mass had shadows that played on it oddly, distorting its shape. Something was wrong. There seemed to be more mass than there should be, the shadows twisting the figure, adding points and edges that couldn't be there. Suddenly I gasped and stepped back, gripping my spear haft in a death grip.

It had horns.

And six legs.

That its fleece was as black as night was no illusion of the shadows. I had never seen an animal like this before, so heavily muscled. It had two pairs of forelegs, the first one where it should be, at the front of its body, but there was a second one, directly behind the first, so that it had two shoulders. The cacophony of the battle was hollow, in the distant background. I walked closer, observing that the muscles of each shoulder were distinctive, clearly defining each shoulder. Even dead, the beast looks powerful. It had long sharp ears and behind each extended a long silver horn. Smooth and round, I could now see glinting moonlight as if it was actual silver.

The body was broken. The bear had raked its claws into it only twice before had been thrown into the tree. The tree had a large depression on its side. The dark beast's spine was shattered in many places, and one of the bear's claws had raked deep into its hind leg. The other had slowly rent open its side. Dark blood pooled around the body. I couldn't bring myself to walk closer. Whatever instinct that brought me out here begged me to, to touch its body, to take it, go deep within. To delve within, to its soul, delve within... I walked back, repulsed. No, no, I couldn't be out here, this was wrong, I should go back...

Another loud roar sounded on the lower level of the land, where the uneven ground fell. And I was walking forward once more, every step cautious, as if trying to pick my way over broken broken branches and twisted roots protruding from the ground, stepping across the ground to the lip of the drop as if trying not to startle deer. Deer with teeth, claws, and horns. I got to the edge and looked over it, crouched to avoid notice. I was in awe.

Below the bear was bellowing in a clear mix of anger, frustration and pain. He lumbered around, taking large gargantuan swipes at the other pair of the two beasts, a lithe twin but for the black horns protruding from behind its ears. The bear was clearly fighting a losing battle. Every swipe was tired, and the beast was far too quick for the bear to handle. The bear ought too offensive so that every time the beast would lunge the bear would have to amble quickly back, swiping as it did so. The beast would circle it, laying the barest of scratches upon the bears hide. It used it's horns to deflect the bears over handed strikes, weaving and dodging, by far too nimble for the bears lumbering style. The agile beast seemed to be the living wraith of the night, one of the midnight's hounds. It's two powerful pairs of forelegs propelled it forward, and gave it more control of its movements and power than otherwise. I noticed for the first time that the hind legs were more largely proportioned to keep up with its foreleg counterparts. It's body rippled with muscle every time it moved as if it were pulsing with strength and power. It moved quickly in the shadows, slashing and clawing without fear. The bear was finished, and we all knew it. It had numerous lacerations on its body, cuts and wounds bleeding, sluggish movements obviously showing that it had too little to go on, much less win this battle. But the bear fought on, for if it was to lose its life, then it should only be lost to purpose, not submission. There was no doubt it would lose it's life this night. But suddenly, the black shrouded beast became prideful and cocky and leapt off its hind legs to a nearby tree to the bears right flank. It launched itself off, aiming for the side of the bear's exposed neck and shoulder.

The bear roared his defiance, and turned with every last bit of will and strength left in its body, and swung his large paws downward, into the flank of the beast and dragging him into the ground. He dug both claws in, roaring once more, as the beast gave a pitiful growl of pain, and raised his paws back up for another swing or finishing blow. As soon as the claws left his body, the beast lurched up and raked both forelegs across the bear's face. The bear gave a deep guttural howl and lurched back, bowing its head into its forearms to cover its face. The beast staggered up, and slowly moved back as if testing its wounds. I leaned forward, intrigued. The bear looked up yet again, and reared up on its hind legs, an impossible feat, to roar. The best choice to capitalize on that moment, and launched itself at the bear, sinking its claws deep into the bear's legs, it's horn into its gut. The bear didn't even have time to register it's pain, as the monster ripped it's head back, eviscerating it, and launching its feline body at its the neck, teeth sinking deep into its throat. The wet sound of blood and gore reached me even on the ledge. I watched as the beast brutally savaged the bear's body, and I could watch no longer. I tried to step back softly, but another crunch made me lose my focus, and I cracked a brittle root.

The eating stopped. The beast slowly and painfully raised its head. I looked down and lightly tried to shift my weight off the branch so I could move and run away. It cracked again and rolled, hitting several dirt clods and causing them to tumble down the ledge. The soft sounds were deafening. I could hear and feel my heart beating, and my blood coursing. I looked up, shaking with fear.

The cat's feline eyes cut through the darkness and shadows with ease, it's silver-gray eyes staring into my own. We looked at each other unblinking. I turned to run, unnerved. I heard him jump, straight from the bear to the ledge, at least thirty feet, without any running start. And I heard him stagger and collapse. I risked a look back, right before I ran around the tree that obscured my vision. The beast was unsteadily rising to its feet. It's clear that the bear had took its toll before death. I dared not look back but kept running forward. My respite was brief, as I soon heard the beast crashing behind me in pursuit. Branches gave way to it's passing, audible evidence of its injury. I dared not hope, however, for even though it was injured it was quickly gaining. I ran in and out of trees, dodging and weaving, but it accomplished nothing. I became sloppy, dodging branches and trunks in a futile attempt to survive. A low growl and loud crash came from behind me, and I turned with my knife raised. A blur of shadow sped out from the darkness, thick and heavy as it's claws and body collided with my knife and chest.

The knife most likely saved my life. The claw of the beast was set to puncture my chest, but instead hit the knife, sending it flying into the air and the deflected claws to only cut my flesh. His other claw cut into the back of my shoulder. I cried out in pain. His second pair of forelegs landed to the side of my body, grasping for stability.

Its blood dripped on my body, the rent opened again through exertion. Blood poured on my hand, slipping through my grip, between my fingers. I opened my eyes, the feel of the blood on my hands reminding me that I still had a spear within my hands. The blood could not loosen the grip between my flesh and the wood. I realized all too late that there was no ground beneath my head or half of my back. The ground once again dipped sharply into a hill. The weight of the beast above me was oppressive and combined with its slippery blood, we would fall. I looked up in time to see the beast snap its jaws toward my throat. I jerked back, and we tipped the balance, pulled toward the earth.

We fell. Tumbling and rolling over each other, the beast of the shadows scrambling for purchase. I just kept rolling, moving with the motion and rolling, clutching the spear with both hands, praying I wouldn't die. The rocks cut up my skin, some biting into already open wounds, my blood smearing against my skin. I rolled over roots and weeds, everything blurring into darkness and pain. Eventually, I felt my roll slow, and the pain dim. The ground had leveled out. I struggled to recover my senses but had no time as the dark shadow of the beast launched itself at me from its roll, claws out and jaws open. I closed my eyes and tensed, bringing the spear to bear in front of me, the butt of it resting on the ground between my arm and my ribs. I felt a shudder and heard the wet and thick sound of punctured flesh, and a small pitiful mewl. I felt something slide down my hands, onto my arms, flowing warm and thick. A metallic scent filled my nose, sweet and tart, and I immediately recognized blood. I opened my eyes slowly as the blood continued to stream down my arm. The beast had impaled itself onto the spear haft, the spearhead had slid into its lungs and heart. Its eyes were now directly level with mine, it silvers my two moons. I watched as the creature slowly died, and its forehead dripped forward onto mine, its massive head an oppressive weight upon my mind. I took half a breath, prepared to try and steady my frayed nerves.

Suddenly a dark blue glow appeared in its eyes and mouth. Before I could react, or think, they crossed the space between us like a thick vapor or mist, or maybe both. They entered my eyes, my mouth, my soul. I could feel its life-draining into me, even when it had no life left. I could feel its essence flowing through me, all that it was. As it entered my eyes and mouth, the fey experience setting me off, I could feel my body pulsing with the energy, adapting to it, dispersing it in every limb, in every essence of my being, of who I was. My muscles tensed and contorted, the strength of the beast strengthening me. I could feel its power flowing into me, and my very spirit reveled in ecstasy. I prayed that it would go on forever.

And as quickly as started, it was over. I jerked, my body spasming, muscles tensing and contracting uncontrollably with power. I panicked, and rolled over, breaking the spear that was still between my body and my arm. The body of the beast fell flat, driving the spear haft completely into its body with its weight. I stood and backed up, sweating, and panicking. What the hell had just happened? I didn't understand, couldn't comprehend. My body suddenly felt full of energy, as if I wasn't running for my life not ten minutes gone. I had killed a six-legged beast, alone, with less than half a spear. And I had absorbed it after it died. Yet its body was still there, whole though damaged, and I was here, whole, though damaged. The pain of my cuts and soon to be scars had faded to a dull hum that was slowly worming its way into reality. I was still bleeding, but slowly. I had blood on my hands, my face, my body. My tunic was torn, as were my breeches. I was stiff, but that too was a dull murmur to the fading exhilaration of power.

I had absorbed it. I absorbed the monster. It was still surreal to me as if it weren't really happening. Such things were beyond the boundary of my small world. Yet I can clearly remember its essence flowing into my body, filling a part of me I never knew was empty, giving me an awareness I didn't know I had. The monster is in me.

But even as I slowly walked toward the dead beast, I knew that wasn't true. It was as if I had taken what the beast was, not the beast itself. I slowly approached the dead being, its limp form reminding me what I had taken, what I feared I might have become. But something caught my eye. I bent, ever so cautiously, to level myself with its face, bloodied, but otherwise unmarred. But something was wrong. Through all the almost amorphous black mass of the great beast, the only thing that truly shone was its eyes. Their light-filled my vision before it died, reflecting light that wasn't even there. Glowing with their own radiance of power. But as I looked now, the light of its eyes were gone, nothing but an empty shell, a husk of what was there. The silver eyes were now just an empty, dull gray, insubstantial. They were almost to the point where they were translucent as if there was no longer anything there. As if I had taken its soul.

A Soul Eater. These were the things that were spoken as if a fantasy, folklore told by humored drunks in shushed taverns or prattled off in dark alleys. Outlawed for powers against nations, against magic, against nature. Outlawed out of fear. In this very Kingdom.

And I was one of them.

A Soul Eater.