Anargrin suppressed his magical presence and, under the cover of night, darted from rooftop to rooftop, searching for a sign of someone, anyone with magical potential.

  It was all in silence, all intuitive; having done this for nigh on seventy years, his mind couldn't help wander, wander back...

  His view drifted from the grim rooftops of Valtagan to a small cave. Emilia was walking ahead of him for one second; the next, she was flying off her feet and smashing into the cave wall. Then she hit the ground, lifeless and limp. The booming, echoing laughter hurt Anargrin's ears, and like a spectre, the troll emerged from the shadows. It was three metres tall, and its scaly hide was the same shades of brown and grey as the cave walls. Its elongated snout jutted another metre from its hunched shoulders. Its lipless mouth was filled with rotting, razor-sharp teeth that stuck out at odd angles. Its large eyes bulged on the top of its head, angling to the sides. Its legs were short to a ridiculous degree- but its arms were almost as long as it was tall. How it'd managed to deceive Anargrin's sharp senses was beyond him.

  In a flash of white light, Anargrin summoned his sword, and to its credit, the troll didn't bandy words as it summoned its goblins. A good two dozen hunched, diminutive creatures appeared between Anargrin and the troll.

  'Kill,' said the troll and snarling and hooting, the goblins surged forwards.

  Anargrin was snapped back to reality as he sensed it and slid to a stop.

  He'd found it, someone with magical potential.

  'Lucky me,' he sneered and started south.

  Anargrin crouched on the rooftop of a three-story habitat block, looking down at the small, dilapidated house across the street. It wasn't a dwarven structure; it was made of wood, near-rotten; the once-green paint was cracked and damaged after years of disrepair.

  In his search, he'd also gone south, far south, deep into the south-eastern slums — at least twenty kilometres from the vampire's initial feeding ground.

  The aura wasn't much more potent than average, which indicated an early onset of magical potential. Usually, in children aged 7 to 10, this made Anargrin hesitant.

  Anargrin sighed and blinked back his weariness. It was three in the morning, but he couldn't wait any longer. He tried to steel himself; he had to do this, or else others will die, but if the child died, he would never forgive himself. Sometimes the ends did justify the means. Could this be one of those times?

  Anargrin wasn't sure. He exhaled. There was only one way to find out, and he leapt off the roof.

  The knocking woke Solen; his eyelids felt like they'd been glued together, and he didn't bother trying to open them.

  'Honey,' said Falin as she rolled in the bed. 'There's someone at the door.'

  'Just ignore it. They'll go away,' said Solen. 'Who in their right mind would knock at this time?'

  'No one,' said Falin. 'All the more reason to answer. They might need our help.'

  'But what if it's someone who's going to barge in and murder us?'

  'Then you'll stop them,' said Falin.

  'How do you know that?'

  'Because you'll have to. I have faith in you, Solen. Unlike that arsehole, Jaroai.'

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Solen let out a groan, forced his eyes open and slipped out of bed.

  He stepped out into the hallway and flinched in fright when he found Kelth poking her head from her room. She stared at him; her beautiful, large eyes, so much like her mother's, were wide with fear.

  'Kelthy,' said Solen. 'Did the knocking wake you up?'

  The little elf girl pursed her lips and nodded.

  'Go back to bed, Kelthy. Your daddy will take care of it.'

  Kelth didn't seem convinced, which upset Solen more than it should've.

  'Bed,' he snapped.

  Kelth slipped into her room, tears in her eyes and slammed the door shut.

  'I'm sorry, Kelthy. I mean to-'

  The knocking interrupted Solen, and he moved on with a growl.

  'I'm coming. I'm coming. Jaroai, damn it.'

  Solen wanted to use worse words, but held his tongue.

  He burst into the kitchen, snatched up a knife and approached the door.

  'Yes, yes! I'm here,' Solen yelled through the door. 'What the hell do you want?'

  'I-I'm sorry,' said the voice. 'I'm sorry to have woken you so early, but I need to talk.'

  'Why?' said Solen. 'You're fucking lucky I'm not human and need more sleep.'

  'Sorry,' said the voice, and there was a metallic tap on the window beside the door. Solen's heart sank as he saw it was a sheathed sword—a sheathed sword with the sigil of the Hunters on it.

  'Please stop apologising, sir,' said Falin as she took the kettle hanging over the crackling fire.

  'I'm sorry,' said the Hunter, sitting at the table. 'And please call me Anargrin.'

  'All right, Anargrin,' said Solen. 'What brings a Hunter to our door?'

  'Investigation,' said Anargrin. 'I am investigating into a vampire that has set up shop in the area.'

  'Shit? Really?' said Solen. 'We-we haven't heard of any attacks yet.'

  'It hasn't struck yet,' said the Hunter. 'We received an anonymous tip that it's a rather infamous one. One which, for some reason or another, exclusively targets elf children.'

  A surge of fear hit Solen, and he shared a glance with Falin.

  Anargrin sighed. 'And we have further evidence that it's going to target your-'

  Anargrin straightened, his attention over Solen's shoulder, and Solen turned to see Kelth at the kitchen entrance.

  'Kelth,' said Solen. 'Go to bed.'

  'A-a vampire?' said Kelth, ignoring Solen, her attention on Anargrin.

  Solen and Falin turned to Anargrin, unsure of what to say to the terrified little girl. For a second, Solen was shocked to see tears in the Hunter's eyes.

  'Yes,' he said. 'I'm afraid so. I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that. You must be very scared.'

  Kelth stepped out of the doorway, and to Solen's further shock, there wasn't a hint of fear on the little girl's face.

  'I'm not scared. Are you a Hunter?'

  'I am.'

  'My name is Kelth, Mr Hunter. What's yours?'

  'Anargrin...My name is Anargrin Kelth. It's good to meet you.'

  'You are going to protect us.'

  'I...I'm going to try.'

  'No, you will. I can tell you will, Mr Hunter.'

  'Please, just call me Anargrin, Kelth.'

  ''Kay, Mr Anargrin. I'm going to bed. I'm tired. Night.'

  With that, she slipped back into the hall and out of sight.

  'I...I need for you to stay here, at home, for the next few days,' said Anargrin after a long pause. 'I will watch your house for its approach. And stop it.'

  Falin nodded. 'Thank you, Anargrin. We appreciate this, thank you.'

  Solen nodded too. Kelth had faith in this Anargrin. Ever since she was very young, she has had a skill at reading people. She was so good that Solen had come to trust her instinct more than his own. But something didn't sit well with Solen. The Hunter's intentions seemed good, but he couldn't help feeling there was something the Hunter wasn't telling them.

  Falin finished making the Hunter's tea and placed it on the table in front of Anargrin.

  'If you ever need anything, please ask,' said Falin.

  'Thank you, ma'am,' said Anargrin as he sipped his tea. 'But I should be good.'

  'I appreciate this. I do, Sir Hunter,' said Solen. 'But if we have to stay here, how can we earn a living or get food if we're stuck here? I'll lose my job at the quarry and Falin's...'

  Falin and Solen shared a look.

  'You must understand, Anargrin,' said Falin. 'We can't survive just on Solen's money. I have too...I need to...'

  Anargrin nodded, his eyes watered with sympathy. It made anger well in Solen's guts.

  How could this stranger begin to understand? Begin to know how Solen had to deal with Falin's work night after night? How did Solen put up with the unwanted knowledge that his beautiful wife was so popular with the clientèle? This Anargrin shouldn't have had any idea, but somehow he did.

  'I do,' he said. 'Don't worry. I will provide you with the supplies you need for as long as you need. We must keep this secret until this is finished, and once it is, I will personally tell your employers the why and how of your absence. This, I swear.'

  Solen nodded; he hoped it'd be enough.

  'Thank you, Anargrin,' said Falin.

  'No,' said Anargrin, smiling. 'Thank you, Falin.'

  Falin smiled back before her attention fell to the floor, and all of a sudden, Solen found he liked the Hunter a little less.