𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 2 Chapter 32 JAYLAH
As soon as the scouting group returned with news of monsters ahead on the trail, I knew this was the point at which Zensa's test would take place. Part of me hoped it would never happen, but another darker place that I kept locked away foamed at the mouth to prove myself. They would be made wrong about me.
Sure enough, Zensa's attention locked onto Alexander and me the second the scouts moved on to alert the others. "Are you going to keep your word about joining us?" She said it as if we already declined.
"Obviously," Alexander confidently spoke for me. "I've been waiting for this."
She kept watching me, taking in my silence as an answer in itself. "Good. Ready yourselves." With that, she moved on to the others, preparing her hair in a tight topknot.
"She does not like you," Alexander said when she was out of earshot. "Good to see I'm not the only one with such an opinion."
I turned my back to her. "Do not pretend as if she likes you any better. You are the one who openly talks of your murderous antics in front of her."
"The other girls ask me about it. And why would I pretend to be anyone other than my charming vigilante self?"
My lip curled; I was unsure whether to laugh or scoff in disgust. "Yes, what a lady-charmer you are. Wait until they hear what you did to me."
"Perhaps I will have them wrapped around my finger too tightly for them to care."
"You give yourself too much credit." But I feared he was right.
With that, I strode toward the other huntresses, my swords sharpened and ready on my back. As the majority of the women stayed behind and made camp for the night, we were off in a group of ten. I was unsure how this escapade would play out. I knew it was a favorite pastime of the elite to take hunting trips to return with trophies to boast their wealth and power, especially in Ition. I knew Lorenzo Çenturion's late father was an avid partaker. My father, on the other hand, enjoyed more brutal enjoyment. Namely, arena fights to the death.
I partook in a few, per his request. But it took no convincing to get me to join—I was of his same mindset. It was meant to be a mockery of my opponent: great warriors bested by the King's protégé, a teenaged Princess. I did not stoop low enough to spar anyone less. Slaves and prisoners either fought each other or beasts procured from faraway places. Like many things from those days, I did not like to dwell on it. I also did not dwell on the fact that—in different circumstances—Alexander could have easily been one of the slain slaves we in the stands jeered at.
But that was not the point. The point was that if I was able to win against Oceana's seasoned warriors, surely I could apply my skill to down a forest beast.
"Did you hear what our target is?" Ghislaine asked us, visibly bounding with excited energy. "It's a carcolgeth. We saw its slime around a disturbed area in the ground, so it must be hiding somewhere near."
