Headless: The Huntsman

The chamber was warm and dimly lit by the flickering glow of a dying hearth. Shadows danced across stone walls hung with wolf pelts and mounted antlers. The heavy scent of stale wine, sweat, and oiled leather lingered thick in the air.

Captain Renak lay sprawled upon his feather-stuffed mattress, one arm dangling over the side, fingers grazing the bearskin rug beneath. His mouth hung half open in drunken sleep, a faint snore rattling in his chest. Beside him, on a low oak table, sat a half-empty tankard, its bitter dregs dripping down the pewter rim.

The huntsman stood in the doorway, shadows curling upward from his neck stump in silent, writhing tendrils. The runes carved into his cold flesh pulsed softly, casting faint crimson light across the chamber.

Above him, Vengeance drifted like a vast black serpent coiled upon the ceiling beams, its burning red eyes gleaming with quiet, fevered anticipation.

"Awaken him," it whispered, its voice rippling through the huntsman's hollow mind like the toll of a distant funeral bell. "Let him see the end approaching. Let his final breath feed the emptiness within him with terror and regret."

The huntsman stepped forward.

The old wooden floor creaked beneath his heavy boots. Renak stirred, brow furrowing in sleep as if disturbed by a nightmare's cold touch. He shifted upon the mattress, groaning softly. The huntsman paused at the foot of the bed, towering above the sleeping man, shadows coiling across his massive frame in silent hunger.

He reached out with one clawed gauntlet and touched the iron pommel of Renak's sheathed sword propped against the chair. The metal vibrated faintly under his touch, humming with the echo of violence and bloodshed. Then he pushed it away, the blade clattering onto the stone floor with a jarring crash.

Renak jolted awake.

His eyes flew open, bloodshot and dazed from wine. He blinked, confused, staring at the axe-wielding silhouette looming before him. For a brief moment, drunken confusion clouded his thoughts, dulling the surge of terror that followed.

"What… who…?"

Then he saw it. The swirling void where a man's head should be. The faint red glow of runes pulsing from the stump of the huntsman's neck. The shadows drifting outward like silent, hungry serpents coiling around the room.

He scrambled back against the carved oak headboard, blankets tangling around his legs. Panic burst across his face as he clawed at the tangled furs, fumbling for his fallen sword. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat beading across his wide, scarred brow.

"No… no, gods, please… please—"

The huntsman stepped forward, the motion silent save for the faint whisper of shadows drifting across the floorboards. His axe gleamed softly in the hearthlight, the blackened blade humming with cold anticipation.

Renak's voice rose to a desperate, trembling wail.

"Mercy! Please, mercy! I was only following orders… please… please don't… gods, I have children, I have—"

The huntsman paused, the shadows curling tighter around his massive frame. A faint tremor rippled through his clawed fingers as he tightened his grip upon the axe haft.

He remembered Renak's sneer. The cold indifference in his eyes as he watched Lira's head fall to the cabin floor. The casual flick of his wrist as he ordered Aryn's throat cut open. The bored contempt as he wiped blood from his boots while Sila's scream ended in silence.

Renak had watched them all die.

Now it was his turn.

The huntsman raised his axe.

"No!" Renak sobbed, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "No, please, gods, please… I beg you… I beg—"

The blackened blade swept through the flickering firelight in a wide, silent arc. There was a wet crunch as it bit through flesh and bone. For a single frozen instant, Renak's eyes widened in shock, mouth falling open in a strangled, silent scream. Then his head toppled from his shoulders, rolling across the blood-smeared furs to land upon the bearskin rug with a dull, wet thud.

His body convulsed once, blood fountaining from his severed neck stump in pulsing jets. Then it slumped sideways upon the mattress, limp and lifeless.

The huntsman stood motionless, the axe resting across his broad shoulder, shadows writhing around his armoured form like silent flames. His runes pulsed softly, illuminating the corpse-strewn bedchamber in flickering crimson light.

Above him, Vengeance drifted down from the ceiling beams. Its vast shadowy form coiled around the huntsman like a serpent of living night. Its burning crimson eyes narrowed with pleasure as it gazed upon the beheaded corpse.

"Yes…" it whispered, its voice trembling with dark satisfaction. "Do you feel it, Huntsman? His fear… his pain… his regret… it feeds me. Each soul harvested in vengeance strengthens my essence. Each death brings me closer to reclaiming what was stolen from me by the gods."

The spirit drifted down to Renak's severed head. Its burning eyes bored into the lifeless, tear-streaked face. A thin tendril of darkness reached out, curling around the corpse's open mouth. A faint wisp of blue-grey light flickered within the shadows – Renak's dying soul, torn from its mortal shell.

Vengeance inhaled deeply.

The wisp vanished into its vast shadowed form. For a moment, the spirit's crimson eyes flared brighter, casting rippling blood-red light across the room.

The huntsman watched in silence.

Within him, the cold grew deeper, spreading outward through his veins like black ice. His grief no longer burned as it once had. Now it sharpened him into something harder. Something colder. Something that could never again be broken by tears.

Vengeance drifted around him in silent satisfaction.

"This is only the beginning," it whispered, its voice curling through his hollow thoughts like a lover's caress. "Many names remain upon your list. Many souls await reaping. Let us move forward, Huntsman. Let us continue this righteous harvest until the world remembers what it means to fear the shadows of their own sins."

The huntsman lowered his axe. Blood dripped from its blackened blade, pattering softly onto the bearskin rug below. He turned away from the corpse, shadows curling around his broad shoulders as he stepped back into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

Behind him, the hearthlight flickered across Renak's lifeless body, casting his severed head in long, grotesque shadows upon the stone walls.

The cold within him pulsed softly.

Another name crossed from the list. Another offering to Vengeance's growing hunger.

He walked down the hall in silence, each heavy stride carrying him deeper into the tightening chain of fate. Shadows followed in his wake, drifting along the walls like funeral veils, whispering softly of death and sorrow.

Above him, Vengeance drifted silently, its vast shadow flickering with thin ripples of crimson lightning. Its burning eyes gleamed with fevered anticipation.

"The next name awaits," it murmured. "Let us continue."

And the huntsman walked on, leaving only silence, blood, and the memory of his mercyless judgement behind.