The Prince Who Was Reborn as a Monster

The Scavenger in the Shadows

The hunters had found his trail.

Kael crouched behind the broken remains of a stone wall, barely daring to breathe. Through a gap between two cracked blocks, he watched the men advance into the clearing.

There were five of them.

The first carried a crossbow. The second held a long spear with a hooked blade beneath its head. Two others wore leather armor reinforced with iron plates, while the last man guided a narrow wagon pulled by a pair of horned beasts.

A metal cage stood on the wagon.

Something inside it scratched at the bars.

Kael narrowed his eyes.

The creature was small, perhaps half his current size, with pale skin stretched over a thin frame. Its wrists were chained, and a dark cloth covered its head. Every time it moved, the cage rattled.

A monster captured alive.

The hunters were not merely killing creatures for food or sport. They had a purpose.

“Tracks end here,” the crossbowman said.

The man carrying the spear crouched beside a patch of disturbed earth. He rubbed a smear of blood between his fingers and examined it.

“Fresh. The little Gloomfang fought something.”

“Then it may be wounded,” said the crossbowman. “Makes our work easier.”

Kael's claws pressed into the damp soil.

Little Gloomfang.

If they discovered him, they would see nothing more than a weak monster worth a few coins.

He had once commanded soldiers who would have obeyed his smallest gesture. Now five armed strangers spoke of hunting him as if he were an animal.

He swallowed the anger rising in his throat.

Anger would not save him.

Information might.

“Spread out,” the spear carrier ordered. “Don't waste bolts unless you have a clear shot. The guild pays more for an intact core.”

The crossbowman grinned. “And if it resists?”

“Then make sure it stops resisting.”

They separated.

Kael waited until the man with the spear moved toward the trees before slipping away from the wall. He kept low, placing each claw carefully to avoid loose stones. His unfamiliar body wanted to move quickly, to leap and run on all fours.

He forced it to obey.

The forest floor sloped toward a narrow stream. If he crossed it, the water might wash away his scent. Beyond it, a dense thicket offered cover.

He was three steps from the bank when a voice spoke behind him.

“Terrible direction, little shadow.”

Kael spun.

A creature sat on a fallen branch above him.

It was roughly the size of a large dog, though its long limbs and hunched shoulders made it look smaller than it was. Its body was covered in patchy gray fur, with black plates running down its spine. Two bright yellow eyes peered from beneath a broad, flattened brow.

A narrow tail curled around the branch. At its tip were several bony segments that clicked softly against one another.

The creature held a half-eaten bird in its claws.

Kael immediately lowered his body.

The stranger tilted its head.

“Oh, don't look at me like that. If I wanted to eat you, I would have started with the tail. Very little meat elsewhere.”

It spoke.

Not through growls or instinctive noises, but in clear words.

Kael stared.

The creature took another bite of the bird.

“Though you look as if someone already tried to eat you. Bad fur. Worse posture. And those claws—have you ever used them properly?”

Kael's lips pulled back, revealing his teeth.

The creature sighed.

“Sensitive.”

“Who are you?” Kael rasped.

The sound that emerged from his throat was rough and broken, as if his voice had been dragged across stone.

The creature nearly dropped its bird.

“You speak?”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I am deciding whether answering it will get me killed.”

“Then decide quickly.”

The creature studied him for a moment before hopping down from the branch. It landed without a sound.

“Murk,” it said. “Scavenger, collector of interesting rubbish, and currently the only person in this forest with enough sense to avoid those men.”

“I'm not a person.”

“Neither am I, technically. Yet here we are.”

A whistle sounded in the distance.

Murk's ears flattened.

“They're moving toward the stream. If you intend to stand there looking frightening, at least do it somewhere else.”

Kael glanced toward the trees.

“Why help me?”

“Help you?” Murk gave a sharp, offended laugh. “I haven't helped you. I merely dislike hunters who trap creatures in cages. They make everyone nervous.”

A second whistle sounded, much closer.

Murk sprang toward a narrow opening between two boulders.

“Coming?”

Kael hesitated.

The creature was strange, talkative, and almost certainly hiding something. Following it into an unfamiliar passage could be a mistake.

But remaining here meant facing armed hunters.

He followed.

The opening narrowed until Kael had to turn sideways. Murk moved through it with practiced ease, occasionally pausing to squeeze beneath a jutting rock. The passage twisted downward before opening into a hollow beneath the roots of an enormous tree.

Bones lay scattered around the chamber. Some belonged to animals. Others were unmistakably humanoid.

Kael stopped.

Murk noticed his expression.

“Dead things are excellent at keeping secrets,” the scavenger said. “Living things talk too much.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Some. Found most. Stole a few from things that thought they owned them.”

Kael looked toward the entrance.

“You brought me to a nest of bones.”

“I brought you somewhere the hunters won't look first.” Murk settled beside a pile of old equipment. “There is a difference.”

Above them, boots crunched over gravel.

“Search the stream!” a hunter shouted. “It can't have gone far!”

Kael sank into the shadows.

Murk leaned toward him.

“Now, here's the important part. When they come down here, you do not attack unless I say so.”

Kael slowly turned his head.

“You give me orders?”

“No. I give you advice. Orders usually come with food, uniforms, and someone trying to stab you afterward.”

The words struck too close to home.

For an instant, Kael saw the royal hall again. Lucien's cold smile. Elara standing beside him. Garrick's sword entering his body.

His claws dug into the earth.

Murk's amusement faded.

“Ah,” the scavenger murmured. “There it is.”

“What?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you remember something terrible and are considering making it everyone else's problem.”

Kael said nothing.

Murk shrugged. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I have enough of my own.”

A shadow crossed the entrance.

Both creatures fell silent.

The spear carrier appeared between the roots, his weapon held forward. He examined the bones, then glanced toward the deeper darkness.

“Something lives here.”

Kael held perfectly still.

The hunter stepped farther inside.

“Come out, little beast. We know you're nearby.”

Murk's tail tightened around his leg.

The hunter raised his spear.

“I won't hurt you if you cooperate.”

Murk leaned close to Kael and whispered, “That means he'll hurt you if you don't.”

The hunter's eyes shifted toward the shadows.

For one terrible second, Kael thought they had been discovered.

Then a sharp clatter came from the opposite side of the hollow.

The hunter turned.

Murk had flicked a loose bone into a narrow tunnel.

“What was that?” the man muttered.

He moved toward the sound, leaving the entrance exposed.

Murk gestured urgently.

Kael slipped past the hunter and into the forest beyond the roots. He did not stop until the hollow was several dozen paces behind him.

Murk emerged a moment later, carrying his half-eaten bird.

“You're welcome.”

“You distracted him.”

“I distracted him with a bone. A fine bone, too. You should be grateful.”

“Why didn't you leave me to die?”

Murk's eyes narrowed slightly.

For the first time, he did not answer immediately.

“Because,” he said at last, “you looked at those men as if you wanted to understand them before killing them.”

Kael stared at him.

“Most monsters don't bother understanding anything. They bite, run, or die. You watched their formation. Counted their weapons. Noticed the cage.”

Murk tilted his head.

“That's unusual.”

“You watch too much.”

“And you reveal too little. We shall make an excellent pair.”

“We are not a pair.”

“Of course not.” Murk turned and began walking. “You're a terrifying lone predator, and I'm a humble scavenger who happens to know where the edible things are.”

Kael followed at a distance.

Not because he trusted Murk.

Because the scavenger knew the forest, understood the hunters, and had already demonstrated a talent for surviving.

Those were useful qualities.

For now, usefulness would have to come before trust.

They traveled through the undergrowth until the ground rose toward a ridge. From there, Kael could see a stretch of ruined road winding between dead trees.

Beyond it stood a broken watchtower.

Its upper half had collapsed, but a faded carving remained above the entrance: a crowned wolf surrounded by seven stars.

Kael froze.

The same symbol he had seen in the underground chamber.

A faint pressure stirred behind his eyes.

For a moment, silver lines shimmered across the ruined stone, forming a pattern that vanished as soon as he blinked.

Murk stopped beside him.

“You know that place?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Murk glanced at him but did not challenge the lie.

“People avoid that tower,” he said. “Hunters, monsters, even the things that crawl out of the deep woods. They say the stones remember blood.”

Kael stared at the crowned wolf.

His kingdom had been erased. His name had become a lie. A hundred years had passed while the people responsible for his death—or their descendants—built new lives upon his ruin.

Yet something had survived.

A symbol.

A voice.

A crystal that had awakened at his touch.

Perhaps the past had not vanished as completely as his enemies believed.

From the distant clearing came the hunters' whistles again.

One sounded twice.

Then a third answered from farther away.

Murk's expression changed.

“They've found your tracks again.”

Kael turned toward the forest.

“How many hunters are in this region?”

“Enough to make a sensible monster nervous.”

“And the cage?”

Murk's tail clicked against the stones.

“Not my concern.”

“You dislike cages.”

“I dislike many things. Rotten meat. Rain. Creatures who ask too many questions.”

Kael stepped toward the ridge.

“If they capture that creature, they will take it somewhere. Somewhere with guards, supplies, and information.”

Murk stared at him in disbelief.

“You are thinking of following them?”

“I am thinking of learning who they serve.”

“And if they catch you?”

“Then I will escape.”

Murk let out a long, weary breath.

“You really are a terrible little monster.”

Kael looked once more at the ruined tower.

Then he turned away.

“Show me where they take their prisoners.”

For a moment, Murk remained still. Then he tucked the remains of his bird beneath one arm and hurried after him.

“Fine. But if we survive this, you owe me food.”

Kael did not answer.

Ahead, beyond the trees, the hunters were gathering around their wagon. One of them held something up to the light—a small, dark crystal.

The same kind Kael had found beneath the ribs of his first prey.

Even from a distance, he felt the strange pressure behind his eyes.

Silver light flickered across the crystal.

And somewhere deep within Kael's unstable core, something answered.