Being a demon, Aveyar thought, does have it’s advantages. Aveyar leaped out of the six foot tree, spreading his metallic skeletal wings to slow his decent. True, he wasn’t really a demon. Aveyar was a Faeleen, but few people cared about the distinction. When he landed, he dashed forward, his long tail trailing behind. Aveyar had seen his prey: something disguised as an old woman. The first Echo had given her away. Echos always meant danger. Whenever he felt that familiar pulse in the back of his mind, he knew to be wary. The one time he ignored this feeling, it ruined his entire life.

He leaped onto a large rock, a dagger clutched in his hand. She could be hiding anywhere. Aveyar’s instructions were clear, find whatever was making so many travelers disappear and bring his employer its head. When times get desperate, anyone will turn to the devil. That is the only way for Faeleens to survive in society. Aveyar had made sure he was useful; he was the most skilled mercenary in all of Kyvanar. He didn’t care if the other races hated him; he knew they feared him. After all, Faeleens were natural predators.Humans called his kind demons simply because they could drain another’s Anima, their lifeforce, to work Magic. One day, Aveyar would give them real reason to fear him. Humans would pay for stealing his life from him.

It was at times like this, when he was alone in the dark, that he felt truly free: free from the hell that his life had become. As his jet black skin and dark gray overcoat blended into the shadows around him, he felt at peace. True, he was hunting a dangerous monster, but that was nothing new. It gave him an outlet for his anger. He closed his eyes listening to the sounds of the night. Nothing seemed out of place; he could hear the sounds of insects. He could smell cinnamon, the scent put out by the small winged kurnin as they mated. Distant cries of small animals being devoured by shadowmares were nothing out of the ordinary either.

Aveyar felt an Echo.

He nearly fell over, gasping in surprise. Echos were rare, and always signaled danger. It had been months since he’d felt one, before tonight. Now he’d felt two of them, within just a few minutes of each other. What was going on? He heard a scream, the voice of a dying human. It came from a cave just below the rock Aveyar was perched on. He knew where his prey was hiding; she had just taken another traveler’s life.

Aveyar checked his belt. The bags of glass dust and metal shards were in place. He could use Anima to shoot their contents as projectiles if he had to. Anima…a warm blaze of power inside him. He had enough of it for an extended fight; it came from the lifeforce of wild beast’s he’d Drained. Draining was quite easy, all Aveyar had to do was ram the metallic spike on the end of his tail into someone. It only took a few moments before they shriveled up as their Anima was sucked away. Dagger still clutched in his hand, Aveyar leaped.

As he landed feet first, he saw his prey in her true form. Where had once been the gray hair of a seemingly harmless old lady was now a mass of snakes. She was tall and imposing, blood dripping from her now slender frame. Aveyar drew a longsword with his free hand and stepped towards the monster.

“Nothing personal, but I’m here to kill you.” He said, his voice cold.

“Wait, you don’t have to do-”

“Yes I do, this is how I survive. I kill things.” He didn’t need to hear his targets pleading for their lives. After a few dozen times, it gets irritating. He lunged forward, swinging his sword. As his weapon neared, she jumped back, pulling out a small vial. Aveyar dropped his dagger and grabbed one of his three bags of glass dust. Opening it, he tapped into his Anima. Shimmering in the pale moonlight like blood from a murdered beggar, the tiny slivers of glass shot forward.

Aveyar’s opponent threw the vial on the ground. Smoke flooded the opening of the cave. When it cleared, there was no sign of his prey. Aveyar ran into the cave. As he stepped inside, he fell over in fear.

He felt another Echo.