Chapter 41: Cabin in the Woods

Chapter 41: Cabin in the Woods

The Huntress sat with her elbows on a table and slowly thumped herself in the forehead. How did it come to this, she wondered, eyeing her most recent capture.

More specifically, she wondered just how dumb three boys could be. Did not one of them have any sense? Why was the smart one so blind? Why was the big one so juvenile? Why was the quiet one so... so...

“Ugh,” she spit.

What did I expect? she asked herself. Three children, babies as far as this world was concerned, going off and playing hero.

The thought made her sick. Heroes weren’t simply born, they were forged after countless battles and hundreds of world shattering tribulations. Which... Now that she thought about it, was exactly what the boys were going through right now.

Maybe she was the dumb one for involving herself?

A groan from across the room kicked the Huntress from her musing. She stood, took a quick peek out of the blinds, and meandered over. She was not looking forward to the next couple of days, but this had to be done. Otherwise her project would end abruptly and she’d have to write a few letters.

“Bah,” she muttered.

Her capture reacted to the sound, abruptly sitting upright.

“Relax, I’m not going to kill you. If I was, you’d have never seen me.”

A splitting pain rushed through Glenny’s head. He quickly shut his eyes, finding solace in the darkness. “I think I’m concussed,” he blurted.

“I did hit you in the head pretty hard...” the Huntress said. “Maybe it’s because of that.”

“You think?”

“Yes.”

“Oh...”

The Huntress suddenly had the urge to hit the quiet one again. Why are they all so stupid! she screamed in her head.

“So, uh, who are you?” he asked.

She blinked at him. “Look at me.”

Glenny slowly creaked his eyes open, finding a woman standing with the posture of a soldier. Her raven hair was tightly wrapped into a bun, a color mimicked through her wear. Light armor, all black, the kind used for discrete night operations or crazy spouses stalking their ex. Glenny sided with the former.

His head felt like jelly again, so he gently closed his eyes and leaned back. He wasn’t stupid, he recognized her right away, but she didn’t know that. Years of training and lectures came back to him in that moment, all taught by his parents.

“Was I supposed to recognize you?” he asked.

With his eyes closed, Glenny couldn’t see the exacerbation on the Huntress’ face. He could, however, hear the leather of her gloves creak and whine as she clenched her fists. Suddenly something hard hit him in the chest and fell against the firm bed where he sat.

“Drink it,” he heard.

And he did, not before inspecting the liquid with sight, taste, and smell. “Three senses are nearly impossible to fool, always go for three. More if you can,” he repeated in his head, his mother’s words. Warmth bubbled in Glenny’s stomach and suddenly the rawness of his head waned.

“Expensive healing potion,” he said.

“You owe me seventy gold.”

“No I don’t. You hit me, remember? Or do you have a concussion as well?” This time Glenny did see the frustration on his captor’s face.

“I hate children,” the Huntress muttered. “This is why I never married.”

“Never married? Because you didn’t want children? What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

She rolled her eyes, sitting down at a dusty table. It was then Glenny took a full inventory of the room.

“Then we have Jude. A kid so loyal to his friends, at the first sign of one of them getting hurt he falls into a true berserker rage? It usually takes years for Berserker Legacies to have issues with rage. How long ago was Jude’s Dream Ceremony? I counted a half dozen months.”

Glenny pushed back his red hair. “W-what can I say? Jude’s a good friend.”

She scoffed. “Try an amazing friend.”

Glenny didn’t answer.

“Then we have you, a Legacy of the Chameleon, son of a world renowned Legacy of the Chameleon. A rare, and often made fun of, Legacy, but it can work. I know, I’ve seen it.”

“My mother,” Glenny stated.

“Indeed,” the Huntress nodded. “And do you know how your mother rose to the level of power she was? I can tell you it wasn’t because she mastered the dagger or that weird tongue ability.”

“Because she was adaptable.”

“Yes in words, wrong in execution. Tell me, why do you think you needed saving? You not asking right after you woke up tells me you already know.”

Glenny shivered and momentarily fell into himself. He could still hear it, the whispering. The Sightless King hung just outside his vision, watching, waiting, and thriving.

“Because...” he spoke. “It’s still in me.”

“Exactly,” the Huntress leveled herself with Glenny, staring into his eyes. Faintly, wisps of red appeared in his irises. “Now why didn’t the sigil disappear after Leland vanquished it? Well, it did. But not before your Legacy adapted to it. The Sightless King is now apart of you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t understand. My mother never—”

“Had the chance to explain your shared Legacy. I suspect your father holds her instruction, but you and Jude are more similar than simply being annoying children. You both discovered something that you shouldn’t have. Not this young, at least.”

“S-so I need to talk to my father? Have him tell me how to adapt?” Glenny asked.

“Sure, if you don’t mind dying in the meantime. Or, at least, go mad.”

“Then... you?”

The Huntress rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have saved you if not.” She tossed him a dark cloak. “Now, put that on and let’s get moving.”

Glenny eyed the parasitic cloak that the Mana Lion-toad dropped upon its death. “How did you—”

“You’d be stupid not to bind it to yourself. That is the kind of item people kill for. Selling it would be a shame.”

Doing as instructed, Glenny donned the starry speckled piece of fabric. It laced just under his chin, the collar scratching against his neck. He grimaced but then felt the cloak’s power wash over him. He felt... odd? Like his senses had all suddenly waned and reformed.

“Good,” the Huntress said. “It’s not cursed.”

“Cursed parasite items are a thing?!”

She shrugged. “Most are. People usually just put up with the curse because the boon is too good to pass up. Or, because they can’t remove it. Those curses really suck. Now come on, we’re late.”

A moment later they were out the boarded door and Glenny had to hide his shock. They were in the mountains, the snowy peaks seemingly at arm’s reach. Then the cold hit him.

“Adapt or die,” the Huntress said. “Only during the night are you allowed to enter the cabin and the heating runes.”

Glenny suddenly felt small. “Um, Miss Huntress? How am I suppose—”

“Firstly, call me Isobel. Secondly,” she gestured to the wilderness. “Adapt to the cold. Adapt to the lack of food. Adapt to the monsters that prowl the area. Good luck.”

Suddenly, she exploded into a hail of sparks, disappearing from the very place she stood.

Glenny shivered.