Chapter 1: After Hunt

A huge arrow hit the deer in its flank, pinning it into an oak tree. Another one tried to run deeper into the woods, but the branches went to life and bent itself to trap the poor creature.

Ivar followed his father as they emerged outside the bush.

"Go, kill it," his father said, tossing a blade to his son. Ivar reluctantly went towards the tangled branches where the wriggling deer stuck. He felt sympathy for the creature as it wailed. He held it steady for a moment and made a quick stab in its throat. Its struggling stopped and the branches pulled back to their normal position. 

Blood oozed as he dragged his kill towards his father, pelt brushing the grass.

"You're learning," his father said.

"But next time, don't hesitate."

They stopped in a small cabin to rest. The place was shadowed by tall trees with small holes on the canopy to let the light in. They used to sleep here, in their forest  camp especially when they had a long hunt. But not today. They've got an easy kill because his father agreed to give him a demonstration of their family's dark secret. 

"The water," his father said.

Ivar checked his bag.

"I left it in the bushes where we hid."

"Go fetch it. I'm thirsty."

Ivar rushed back to where they killed the deer. He found the canteen beside a curious squirrel, playing around it. He could have shooed it away when he recalled what his father did to the deers—It was an unbelievable sight. He wondered if he could do the same.

He breathed slowly and focused his attention on the vines that crawled on a tree beside the squirrel. He wanted to catch the creature. Surely that would make his father proud. 

Here, take it, a voice whispered so close to Ivar's ear that made him stop.

He turned to see no one else but an empty clearing. Puzzled, he tried to command the vines again to attack the squirrel but to no avail.

Just as he gave up his attempt, a large tendril moved, but instead of wrapping the squirrel, it jerked, and lurched towards him. Ivar, unable to process what's happening, took the canteen and ran away in fear.

He was shocked and amazed at the fact that it is possible for him to do such feats like that. Of course, it's possible, he said to himself. He's a son of a powerful Alchemist. But what he did back there, made him wonder if it was really him that made the vine move. It was as if it had a mind on its own. Or someone did it instead of him. Ivar didn't even feel any sensation about controlling it. That only gave him more chill.

"Come on," his father said, slipping out between two tree trunks that served as the camp exit.

Ivar's small legs complained about the rough terrain that they're taking. He always wondered why they had to hike so far away from the village just to hunt when there are suitable places nearby. Whenever he asks this question, his father would simply tell him the same thing—We can't afford to be seen. 

"Teach me how you do it," he said to his father.

"I will."

"You always say that."

"We'll begin your training when you turn twelve next summer."

Ivar didn't tell his father about the vine that he mistook for a snake. Other than it being embarrassing, it also scares him. However, he did tell his father about the squirrel.

They trekked down the hill and crossed the river, which borders the wilderness and the small town of Frulenberg.

Ivar's father dropped his deer on the river bank and began washing it. Ivar pulled his knife and did the same— removing organs and other parts of the animals. They will be buried later on, as part of their ritual to show respect and gratitude for the life they took.

The sun was sinking low on the red sky as they headed back home. 

Ivar and his father crossed the bridge. It's once-thick wooden floor started to show signs of decay, as if at any moment it would give up and plunge them into the river. 

This place was ancient. He knew that just by looking at the thick algae on the rocks, and the ruins scattered all around the village. Ivar didn't know much about the origin of his family other than they were travelers who constantly moved from places to places that offered them safety. They were once living on a normal life, without him knowing anything about alchemy that his family suppressed for many years to keep us safe. But somehow, his father got caught lying by a man he didn't know was a Seeker.

On the opposite bank, Ivar saw his brother, Harald— about 6 years older than him— as they marched past the open field where they often loose their only cattle. He was yelling words they couldn't hear until they were near him.

"The imperial guards... they're here," he warned.

 He could see in his brother's eyes both fear and fierceness. 

"Where's Dina?" His father asked.

"Mother was out collecting herbs. I tried to find her but—"

"Harald, come with me. And you," he turned to Ivar, "take this back to the forest camp. Wait there."

The deer fell on his father's shoulder as he dashed towards their house, Harald at his side.

Ivar's body froze. He didn't know what exactly was happening. And he was afraid of walking alone far away back to the forest without torches to light his path. 

Luckily, the moon was full and bright, which gave him both relief and nervousness. He had heard stories about monsters spawning during the full moon. Are any of them real? He didn't want to figure it out.

Ivar was on his way to cross the river when he heard an explosion from the village. Ivar was tempted to go back and help his father. He already knew about the Seekers.

But what about the imperial guards? It was a new name that worried his brother.

Even if he knew the answer, he might just make the matters worse by not following his father's order. What could he do? 

He tied both deers at each edge of a stick and carried them across the bridge. Ivar grew more anxious about what happened to them back in their house. He kept pausing as he hiked alone in the woods with only the moonlight guiding his vision. 

It took him a long time to haul the deer up the steep hill just a few distance away from the secret cabin. And there, he lit a lamp and waited on the porch for an hour before he heard a rustling sound in the bushes. Ivar saw his father carrying a huge bag containing important stuff.

"Father—"

"Everything's fine, your mother is here," his father said as Dina appeared in the cabin with a bag slung on her shoulder. 

"This place should be safe enough to hide us for a few days before we move out. But before that, we had to make preparations for our journey."

As soon as his father said that, he noticed the trees surrounding the cabin moved towards each other, making an impenetrable wall of trees. Harald slipped between the tree trunks before it closed. 

"Everything's clear, I managed to lose the pursuers," he said, panting.

"They're now heading far south following the river. They won't be bothering us for now."

"Good," his father said to Harald, "I see you haven't mastered your breathing yet."

"What breathing?" Ivar asked.

"You will learn it tomorrow as you begin your training."

"But you said next summer—"

"There are things that cannot wait until summer," his father said.

"Our lives are at stake," he continued, "Who would have thought that Azrim would reach this remote place? Townspeople said that a group of Seekers who happened to scout the borders of Frulenberg has detected an alchemical activity."

His mother shifted beside him.

"But Rowan, perhaps you forgot to—"

"Of course I did. Forgetting to obscure alchemical activity is disastrous. That only means someone had used the power without hiding it. Am I right, Harald?"

"I swear to Croven, father, that I hadn't done that thing. The Seeker's attention was along the border. If it was me they would have checked each house in the village, and I was reading in the attic the whole time."

Everyone turned to Ivar.

"What?" Ivar said.

"It's not him," Rowan said.

"It's not possible, I haven't performed the awakening ritual yet."

A sudden pang of guilt washed through Ivar's body. He knew it was him, and he put his family in danger because of what he had done.

I should have waited until father taught me properly how to do it, he thought.

But his tongue won't move to admit the mistake that he had made. 

What is wrong with me? he said to himself. If his ability hadn't been awakened by a ritual, as his father said, then how in the world did he do it?

His brother sat on the cabin floor, still wheezing. Ivar could tell Harald's effort by luring the enemy. He had lost a lot of air. 

"Why do we have to leave Frulenberg, father?" Harald said.

"It only made the whole town suspicious."

"They already are," his father replied.

"I wouldn't be surprised if people come here in search of us."

Ivar couldn't sleep that night. And when he finally did, the snapping vines kept haunting his dream.