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

Quieter now, it says, “You have nothing to fear from me, son of man. Look.”


My eyes turn up just a little and I see two feet standing before me in the grass. They glow brightly, as though composed of light, but the recognizable form reduces some of my fear. I look up slowly. Its legs are solid, but the energy contained within roils with power. Brilliant light obscures the thing’s waist and lower torso, but I catch a glimpse of a white robe. Its chest is broad and powerful. Its arms like solid, living ivory. Its face, if it has one, is lost in a flickering white flare that crackles with electricity.

As I feel my arms begin to weaken again, I wonder if this creature really thought its form would put me at ease. If so, it was gravely mistaken.

“What is it?” Kainda asks, her voice full of unusual fear.

“I am one of the Kerubim,” it replies, “guardian of Edinnu. Daughter of man, I mean you no harm.”

I don’t miss the fact that this is the third time it has assured us we are safe. The glow emanating from its body fades. The bolts of electricity snapping around its face pull back and disappear. Human features emerge. Muscles beneath skin. Fingernails. Silver hair. Eyebrows. It’s all little things, but they help put me at ease. The light pulls inward, contained by a human form complete with almost luminescent blue eyes, a full silver beard and a pure white smile. “It has been a long time since I stood in the presence of your kind,” the being says and then bows his head. “I am honored.”

“H—how did you know my name?” I ask.

“All things have been written,” he says. “I have been waiting for you.” He looks at the others. “All of you.” He turns to Kat. “Katherine Wright.” Then to Kainda, “Kainda Ninnis.” The use of Kainda’s last name throws me. To me, Ninnis has always just been Ninnis, but it was his last name, not his first, so it is Kainda’s name as well. She frowns at its usage, but stays quiet.

The being turns to Em, dips his head and says, “Rachel Graham.”

What? Who is—my mouth drops open and I blurt out, “That’s your real name.”

Kat seems surprised. “Graham is her last name?”

Em looks stricken. “What?”

“The name you were given by your parents. Your real parents. In the outside world! If we know your name, we can—”

“Stop,” she says, eyes damp with tears. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

My mouth clamps shut.

“Where you are and how things are possible are not important,” the being says. “The mysteries of creation are often best enjoyed without the knowledge of all things.”

Is he trying to tell us something?

“Solomon,” he says, turning his blue eyes on me. “You have been chosen.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Cronus was not mistaken.”

That this being knows about Cronus, and what he told me, is baffling. I don’t think he gets out much, if ever. But he has knowledge about me. About Cronus. About things no one on this Earth should know about.

“Your commitment to stopping the dark one—”

“Ophion,” I say, just to make sure we’re on the same page.

He nods and continues, “…is without question. Yet your quest is in peril. The shofar is nearly lost to you.”

“Nephil is here?” Kainda asks, fire returning to her voice.

The being points a glowing fingertip toward the ceiling. “He is above. Crossing the perch.”

“Can’t you stop him?” I ask.

“I could,” the being replies and looks back at the tree atop the hill. “But it is not my task. It is yours.”

I take a step away, intending to find a way to chase Nephil down.

“Wait,” he says. “There is more and still time to tell it.”

“What is it?” I say, growing impatient. “Tell me.”

“You are incomplete,” the being says, taking me by surprise. Sensing my brewing argument, the creature adds, “You have mended your soul. You have found your passion, your focus and your faith. But you lack the hope that binds these things together. You will not be strong enough to defeat Ophion until you find it.”

“I don’t suppose you could be less vague about this?” I ask.

“Revealing such things would reduce the impact of discovering them for yourself,” he says. “But be warned, there will come a time, when hope seems lost. Do not turn your back on it, or you will be lost.”

I sense the conversation is about to shift back to the task at hand, but Em surprises everyone by asking, “Are they alive? My parents?”

The being turns to her and just stares.

“You know,” she says. “You must. Tell me.”

He regards Em, looking her over.

“Tell me now!”

“Yes,” he says. “Your parents yet live. As do your three siblings. Two older brothers and a younger sister.”

That last part was a gift. Em smiles. “A sister.”