Chapter 25. The Hunter’s Origin

Eryndor’s POV

Fifteen years ago, I lived in a peaceful little village nestled against the mountains, set apart from any other human settlement—and we liked it that way. A ravine nearby supplied us with plenty of fish, and the soil was rich enough to yield all manner of crops. Life was simple, but it was good.

My father was one of the most respected people in our village. He was our hunter, unmatched by anyone else. I’d seen him take down three wild fowl with a single flick of his throwing knife and not barely break a sweat.

My mother served as our resident healer; there wasn’t a sickness or wound she couldn’t mend. She worked potions and antidotes as though they were magic, and in many ways they were.

My older sister—well, she was the talk of the town. Every young man in the village spoke her name with reverence, and every family dreamed of welcoming her into their home as a daughter-in-law. She was graceful and beautiful, and our neighbors doted on