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

Time seems to slow as I realize that Xin has entered my mind so deeply that he has given me access to his as well.

I relive his youth. A blue liquid world I mistake for the ocean at first. But there are distorted figures around me, walking past, staring in at me with big black eyes. I’m in a tube. A glass chamber. And I’ve been grown. A table is cold beneath me. Lights shine in my face. Sharp pain traces over my body as incisions are made. The process is repeated again and again until everything they needed to know has been acquired. Then I’m cast aside to die. But I don’t. I survive and they’re impressed enough to let me live, feeding me scraps. But I listen and watch. I learn and plot. And I desire to be accepted. To be…

Loved.

The deep sense of longing brings tears to my eyes and removes the last bit of strength I have.

The barricade breaks.

Xin is the first to scream, first in my head and then in his body as his mind is forced from mine by someone more powerful than us both. The blunt pain in my head turns into an all consuming fire. My scream joins with Xin’s. Our voices roll through the giant cavern, bouncing off the walls for miles. I fight for control of my mind and body, but I’m weakened by Xin’s invasion and I find myself incapable of regaining control.

Nephil is free.





7



I laugh hysterically, though the voice is not mine. It’s as though puberty has come and gone and my voice has been replaced by a booming baritone. More than that, the words that follow my laughter are cruel and mocking. The kind I heard all my life.

“You wish to be a hunter?” I shout as though it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. “I don’t even know what you are!” I laugh again, when Xin reels back from the words like he’s been hit.

Whipsnap is somehow in my hand again. I don’t remember picking it up. I watch as a spectator, while my body strikes. The blade strikes Xin’s side. His scales provide a momentary resistance to the blade, but the razor edge cuts through when the weapon is drawn back and fresh blood spills.

Red blood, I notice.

Not purple, like the Nephilim.

The sight of it only sends me—Nephil—deeper into a rage.

“You see!” I shout. “You’re an albino seeker with human blood! An abomination! Your body should have been dashed on the rocks and used as food for the feeders.”

Feeders are egg shaped Nephilim with stubby arms and legs, massive jaws, rows of shark-like teeth, and pounds of fatty flesh, which is the staple food of many Nephilim. It’s a cannibalistic society, but the breeders hatch the feeders—what I call egg-monsters—on a regular schedule and if they are not destroyed, they become giants, consuming everything they come across. Ninnis once told me there were three of them living in the underworld. I have yet to meet them and hope I never do.

My sight goes black for a moment. The blindness scares me. But I can still feel myself moving. Fighting. Killing. But the sight of it has been hidden from me.

Because it would revolt me, I think. And in my revolt, I would gain strength. Nephil must be contained, but I lack the strength after Xin’s assault. As I feel my true self fading, I reach out with my thoughts.

Xin.

Xin!

Who? I can’t—Solomon. How? Xin’s thoughts are broken. Distracted. He’s under attack. Help!

To help you, you must help me, I think.

I feel the mace end of Whipsnap swing wide and connect with something solid, but soft. Xin screams within my mind.

Back to the door, Xin shouts. Close it!

I see myself at the door, which I hadn’t visualized before. It’s old, and wooden, but held together by metal beams. I think I should have imagined a bank vault, but the ancient door somehow seems more appropriate. Nephil deserves a dungeon so that’s what I’ve conjured up. Xin appears next to me, uninjured and ready for battle. While the condition of his physical body is a mystery to me, I suspect his injuries are severe.

What do we do? I ask.

Force him back.

I look to the door. It’s open, but Nephil is not here. How?

This is still your mind, Solomon. You are in control if you choose to be. Bring him to us.

I turn all of my attention on Nephil. He appears immediately—by choice, I realize. He wouldn’t back down from a fight. But he looks nothing like I thought he would—thirty feet tall, blood red hair, multiple rows of sharp teeth. I thought he would look like the other Nephilim. Instead he appears as a black, shapeless mass. A living shadow.

Little Solomon believes he is a man, Nephil says with a laugh.

Ull appears by his side, staring at me defiantly. I forgot that despite his independent streak, Ull is a hunter at heart and wants to see Nephil rise. While Ull is handy on the battlefield—he cannot resist a fight and does not wish to be harmed—he is ultimately my enemy. I am my enemy.

Focus, Solomon! Xin says.