Survive the Hunt

Doomhaven, Book One

Chapter 1: A Hunter’s Path

The hum came first. It was low and melodic, threading through Zuberi’s groggy mind like a song once cherished, now half-remembered. Then awareness crashed over him, his body jerking as if pulled by invisible chains. Each breath burned sweet and sharp, like burnt spices. The air itself vibrated against his skin, as though it demanded his full attention.

Zuberi pried his lids open to a deep purple sky streaked with emerald and gold. Two suns loomed on the horizon, one scolding red, the other cool blue, bathing the world in surreal mauve hues. Long, thick, and distorted shadows stretched around, as if they were hiding unimaginable monsters.

Zuberi pushed himself upright, wincing as his body protested. The ground beneath him shifted with a faint, crystalline sound. Underneath his feet, instead of soil or grass or mud, was a bed of iridescent pebbles, smooth and shimmering as if each held a tiny flame within. Any movement sent ripples of light across the pebbles' surface, their lights show in sync with the hum that had awakened him. He brushed his hand through the tiny stones, marveling at their cool, glassy texture.

Images surfaced to Zuberi’s mind with an intensity that almost sent him back to the ground. Dark waters crushed him, the taste of salt and fear buzzing in his mouth. The suffocating pressure and frantic struggle for air. The sharp pang of helplessness as the ocean swallowed him. Faces followed next, haunting, disorienting, accusing. Amara’s laughter, Father’s stern gaze, his people’s cries for help, each a shard of pain pressing deeper, threatening to pierce his chest. Zuberi knew he could not afford the distraction, yet the flashes refused to recede. Like wounds he could not bandage or poultice, they demanded his immediate and undivided attention.

Forcing his eyes shut once more, trying to stabilize the spinning world, Zuberi brought his hand to his side, finding the familiar cool metal of his chakram. The weapon’s presence steadied him. Even though something felt different about it, the familiar etchings on its surface helped calm his racing heart.

Slowly, Zuberi willed his breathing to even, ignoring the sense of doom that hung around him, forcing his mind to deal with the real, the here, the now. The way his damp robes clung to his skin, the sash around his waist, loosened by unremembered struggle, the way the pebbles sent tremors against the soles of his boots.

When he opened his eyes again, he gazed at the clearing in which he found himself, the tall trees that cast strange shimmering rainbows, their looming branches with indigo bark and translucent leaves. Zuberi’s eyes narrowed as he took it all in, the surreal beauty filling him with wonder and dread in equal measures. Strange bushes nearby swayed in a nonexistent wind, bulbous fronds, glimmering pods, and twitching vines. The air felt alive, heavy with expectation, as though it waited for him to do something.

A small glowing creature, half-butterfly, half-dandelion seed head, fluttered past, its translucent body pulsing with light. Zuberi reached out with his finger, but the thing darted away, surprisingly agile, disappearing into the underbrush. Once more, the encounter left him with a strange mixture of awe and unease.

The hum grew louder, threading through the forest. Every patch of moss, undulating blade of grass, glowing vine, and the air itself felt connected, aware. Every time the buzzing in the air peaked, for it had a rhythm of its own, the hair on Zuberi's arms stood on end, the way it did when a powerful storm gathered on the horizon. When he brought his hands before his eyes, he noticed faint lines snaking in strange patterns on his skin, like tendrils of lightning, like the veins under his skin, racing along his arms, pulsing with his heartbeat and with the rhythm of the hum. He rubbed at the lines as if they were stains. They faded where he touched, only to return the second he removed his hand, resuming their gentle pulse.

A rustling sound drew Zuberi’s attention. His grip tightened on his chakram.

“Who goes there?” His voice cut through the hum, steadier than he expected given the unease crawling up his spine.

At first, only silence. Then, something burst from the underbrush. It was sleek and low to the ground, its silver scales shimmering like liquid light. Long spines, like those of a giant porcupine, lined the creature’s back, refracting the twin suns into sharp, dazzling glares. Its large, violet eyes locked on Zuberi with the intensity of a predator’s gaze.

The beast circled Zuberi, each step taken with care, muscles rippling with power under the light-gray skin. Zuberi’s eyes narrowed, instincts sharpened, every nerve attuned to the predator’s movements as he matched its pace, chakram ready. The glowing lines on his skin tightened, the way blood had once stretched his skin as it dried up in the aftermath of battle.

For a heartbeat, the creature paused, hesitating. Recognition flickered in its gaze, an acknowledgment that what stood before it might not be prey after all. Then, as if deciding it was the hunter, the apex predator, it growled, a low rumble, lips pulling back to reveal huge canines and cerated teeth. It coiled then sprang.

Time slowed. Zuberi sidestepped the leaping beast at the last moment, his hand closing around the chakram’s blade as naturally as drawing a breath. He hurled it toward the creature, its edge gleaming with a red glow, like a branding iron left in the coals. The weapon struck the beast mid-leap, and what happened next made Zuberi’s breath catch. The chakram dug deep into the scaled hide, then bounced and arced back towards him, its spin intact, as if it had ricocheted against an unseen force. His hand moved as if on its own, catching the weapon that should have severed his fingers. Instead, the deadly edge stopped the instant it touched his palm, as though recognizing its owner, the glow around the rim fading back to its usual silver on black sheen. With one eye trained on the beast, on the gash along its flank, Zuberi wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor reminiscent of turtle shells left too long under the coals. Zuberi eyed his weapon, eyes wide with surprise.

Circling in the opposite direction to the panther-sized creature, Zuberi used his free, left hand to feel the spear slung across his chest. He then transferred the chakram to his weak hand and gripped the handle of his machete. Reassured that his weapons were all there, if different somehow, the same way the chakram had felt different, changed, Zuberi focused on the beast ahead of him. Inspecting his weapons during battle would only lead to one outcome—death.

The beast’s violet eyes remained wary, watching Zuberi with its neck lowered, eyes not meeting his. For a moment, they stared at each other, predator and prey caught in uneasy silence, each trying to impress on the other which role they played. Then a roar cut through the air. It was low, thunderous, and more to his horror, unknown to Zuberi who prided himself as the best tracker of his generation, capable of identifying most animal calls from the low savannah to the dense jungles and even to the barren, cold mountaintops. The beast’s head snapped towards the sound, its silvery spines bristling like chimes stirred by a gust of wind, or blades hanging at by the smith's forge. It hissed, and with a final glare at Zuberi, darted back to the forest from where it had come.

The roar came again. Closer. Goose bumps rose on Zuberi’s skin. Deciding he did not want to find out what had made that sound, he turned and ran in the direction opposite to where the beast had fled. As Zuberi ran, the forest blurred past, glowing vines whipping at his face. Creatures, like large fireflies, scattered, their luminous forms lighting his path, the hum in the air alternating between chaotic noise and the low hum he now expected the way one does the aroma of manure when it is planting season. Zuberi soon fell into a good tempo, one that let him build distance between him and whatever had belted that cry, but did not drain all his stamina, lest he needed to output a burst of speed only to find himself empty.

Zuberi surged through a curtain of vines and stopped just in time, cursing at himself for letting his mind wander as he ran. Panting, his heart a drumbeat in his chest, he studied his surroundings. The jungle ground here was still peppered with iridescent pebbles, though they were fewer. The forest behind him, which had fallen silent, now seemed to hold its breath. Ahead, the ground sloped downward in a sheer descent—not quite a cliff, but steep enough that climbing back up would be a challenge. Some five to ten meters below, the jungle gave way to black sand that glittered with larger, sharper-looking chunks. In the far distance, enormous, half-crumpled structures clawed at a sky the color of a dying bruise. One particular tall, slender ruin, like a broken spear piercing the heavens, captured his gaze. Halfway up the dark spire, came intermittent, silent flashes of blinding white light, contained to one ring of the spire alone. The ring of light was the height of a finger from his perspective, as if a captive lightning storm raged within.

Before Zuberi could fully process the unsettling vista, a series of sharp cracks, a deep huffing, and guttural snarls directly behind him made his blood run cold. Then there was there snapping and rending noises. Trees, thick as his own body, snapped, something colossal uprooting or laying them flat with no regard but expediency. Something that was way too close. His gaze swept left, spotting a glimmer of silver. Zuberi realized he had started calling the beast a silverback when he recognized the scaled predator he had fought earlier. It limped, favoring the wounded side, its intelligent eyes locked on him. Then, a flicker of motion to his right revealed not one, but three more Silverbacks, smaller than the giant to his left, but still sleek and powerful, emerging from the jungle's edge. A pack. Zuberi gritted his teeth in grudging respect. The predator had recognized its inadequacy, taken advantage of the distraction offered by the bigger, louder threat, and feigned retreat when in fact it had gone to gather its pack. No better than common sheep, Zuberi had been herded. And the worst part was that he could do absolutely nothing but take the one route left open to him.

Trapped. The word resonated like a death sentence. Behind Zuberi, the forest erupted as the behemoth crashed yet closer, each impact shaking the ground. To his flanks, the Silverback pack closed in. Ahead, the spire pulsed its silent, alien storm. Below, the black crystal formations jutted from the dark sand, as imperfect a shelter as Zuberi could have asked for. Riddled with gaps, being the sole raised structure over the sea of black sand, and reflecting the lights of the twin suns in a scintillating show, the crystals exposed more than they concealed. Still, they were his one chance against these converging nightmares. No time for caution, no path for safe retreat. With a desperate snarl, Zuberi launched himself over the precipice. Boots skittered on loose roots, dislodging pebbles as he plunged down the steep incline. As a puff of warm, humid, and fetid air blow past his head, announcing the arrival of his pursuer, Zuberi realized he had failed to take one crucial thing into consideration. What if whatever chased him decided to pursue him across the black sand?