Eleventh Cycle (Mistland, #1)

by Kian N. Ardalan

“This killing wasn’t an act of desperation,” I clarified, looking at my surroundings. “This is a celebration.” “Celebration?” Nora asked. “The akar weren’t being hunted… they were the hunter.” “Good, that means fewer savages to smite,” Nora made as if to leave. “You don’t understand.” I turned towards the two of them. “My people hunt. To be the one who slays an unslayable beast is to garner the respect of all. You shouldn’t ask about the hundred akar felled in battle. You should ask about the one who dealt the killing blow.” I was walking around the beast, trailing its sides and stepping over the corpses of my people. There I found it, on the other side of its body. Nora and Howard stumbled over to me. “My god, what is that?” Howard blanched. “The killing blow,” I said. What we stared upon was a dented mass of flesh punched in. The body had crumpled inwards and what remained was a disgusting black bruise covering the entire side. “Whoever killed this being will garner the respect of the rest.” I turned to look deeply into the eyes of Nora and Howard. “Enough to rally the rest of the tribes under one banner.”