The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

The door shatters into pieces.

In that instant I lose myself. Nephil is supercharged as the darkness within the vault merges with his spirit. I feel myself reaching out, beyond my physical body, out into the continent. Antarctica becomes an extension of me like never before. I can feel its mass as though it were my own body. Its rivers are my blood. The snow, my skin.

But my reach doesn’t end there.

I feel the ocean beyond.

And more land. South America first. Australia. North America. Europe. Asia. I feel the tectonic plates, shifting and grinding above the molten layer beneath. For one explosive moment I feel bound to the entire planet. But I’m out of control, or rather, under control. I grip the entire planet, holding it, holding myself…and spin. I feel my skin come loose and wrap around my body, tearing and grinding, exploding and burning.

I scream, falling to my knees and clutching my head. The connection is broken. The darkness swirls before me. Nephil is reborn and whole again, inside my body. Inside my mind. And I stand against him, alone.

“Not alone, Solomon” a voice replies to my thoughts. It’s my voice, but deeper and more confident. Ull emerges from the broken vault.

“You’re stronger than the last time we met,” he says.

“And you’re not trying to kill me. Don’t you want to be bonded with Nephil?” I ask.

“I spent enough time with the beast to know he has no intention of sharing our body with me. He seeks to destroy us. To make our body his own. This cannot happen.” He suddenly has Whipsnap in his hand. “We must fight him together. As one.”

Laughter shakes the world apart. We are surrounded by the dark, standing in a pillar of light. I find a duplicate of Whipsnap in my hands and I stand back to back with Ull.

The darkness sweeps around us. I see eyes. Yellow eyes. And claws. Razor sharp. We stand in the eye of an evil hurricane, but the wind is laughter—mocking, hateful laughter.

“Stand your ground, Solomon,” Ull says. “This is our mind. You bound him once, you can do it again.”

The laughter reaches a high pitch as a streak of black separates and swoops toward me. Blazing yellow eyes burn at me. Claws reach out. I swing Whipsnap down, bringing the blade into and through the thing’s torso. I strike nothing. The blade has passed through the body as though it is immaterial. The thing’s claws, however, are solid.

Four red streaks appear on my side. A blazing pain follows. I smell my blood and feel its warmth on my side. I look down. The gash is deep. Fearing my organs will slip out, I drop Whipsnap and press my hands against the wound.

Ull shouts a battle cry and swings. He screams in pain, but swings again, and again.

We fall to our knees together. Defeated.

As the dark swirling hatred moves in to consume us, I say, “I forgive you, Ull.”

He looks over his shoulder and meets my eyes. His face is covered in blood. “Too late.”

I nod. My separate sides, unable to reconcile, are weaker on their own. I cannot stand up to the monster. I don’t even stand a chance. I lower my head in defeat.

“Get up,” a raspy voice says.

“You aren’t alone,” says a second, younger voice.

I look up to find Xin and Luca standing above Ull and me.

Xin reaches his hand down to me. “It’s time to fight, brother.”





35



Xin pulls me up and I see little Luca yank Ull to his feet. The boy is stronger than anyone would believe.

Xin’s yellow eyes are just inches from mine. “Remember,” he says. “This is your mind. Your rules. To win, you will need to believe that. We can support you, but the fight is yours.”

I look at Ull. “What about him?”

“Ull is your heart,” Xin says. He gives you strength, but this fight is taking place in your mind. And that is your domain.”

I’m not sure what surprises me more, that Xin is here with Luca or that Ull has been identified as my heart. But I suppose it makes sense. He is all passion and fire, while I am logical and thoughtful. It doesn’t mean I’m without heart. It just means that Ull is the part of me that feels the deepest, and since the breaking, that part of me has been angry. Full of rage. Destructive.

The blackness known as Nephil has shifted away from the four of us, perhaps contemplating this new development.

“Heal your wounds,” Xin says.

I look down and tell myself that this isn’t real. That it’s all in my mind. And that my wounds are imaginary. The gashes seal and the blood flow stops. The pain, however, doesn’t fade.