Chapter 1: The Hunt Begins - How the Stars Fall

“I will give you five thousand gold coins to bring me the fallen star.”

Hazel eyes stared intently at Ryker. The desire to look upon one of Earth’s rarest beauties was evident on King Branoc’s face. Everyone who dwelt in the lands of Emberfell knew of his greed, but none were brave enough to challenge him. It was best to stay in his good graces, because if you didn’t, it was the dungeons—or the noose.

Ryker liked to poke the bear, though.

“What star?”

The king sneered. “Don’t play dumb with me, Ryker. It won’t end well for you.”

Knuckles cracked as Ryker clenched his hand in his trouser pocket. He didn’t mix well with threats. No one—not even a king—could make Ryker do something he didn’t wish to do. He was a slave to none.

The idea of a large bag of coins was quite enticing, though.

“Ten thousand gold coins and you have yourself a deal,” Ryker replied.

King Branoc’s fingers idly stroked his long, grey beard, his gaze distant as he mulled over the bounty hunter’s words. Behind his intricately carved throne, guards shifted uneasily, their tension palpable. He was an older king, and for the past few years, had called upon Ryker’s services, however it had been a few months since he’d graced the king’s home.

King Branoc smirked. “Eight thousand, and that is my final offer.”

Ryker took his time answering as his gaze roamed over his surroundings. Fine oil paintings from well-known artists and blue and red flags—the kingdom’s colours—filled the throne room of the palace. Warmly lit wall sconces cast shadows across the blood red carpet that ran along the floor, all the way to the platform that held the king’s throne. While the room was beautiful to look at, it declared strength loudly, but was more a measure of ego than anything.

There was no queen’s throne. The king had never married; Ryker could only presume it was because he didn’t want to share his treasure with anyone.

Ryker folded his arms across his chest and eyed the king warily. “There will be bounty hunters in other regions looking for it. If you wish to have it all to yourself, it’s going to require a lot of skill and effort from me.”

King Branoc’s lip curled in defeat as his hand clenched on the arm of his chair. “Fine . . . nine thousand. But you better bring it back to me in one piece.”

Ryker shrugged at the king. “Depends on how I find it.”

“Just don’t get any ideas on keeping it for yourself, boy. If you take off with it, I will place a bounty on your head.” King Branoc squinted at Ryker from his chair. “All your little bounty hunter friends would turn on you . . . I’ll make sure you never know peace again.”

“I have no desire to run off with your precious star,” Ryker replied as he shifted his weight.

The king leaned back on his throne, fiddling with the large sapphire ring on his left hand. “You may be the best in the business . . . but it doesn’t mean I can’t make your life a living hell.”

There goes those threats again. Ryker wanted to voice some of his own, but the thought of a decent pile of money kept his mouth shut.

“It already is.”

King Branoc grunted and dismissed Ryker with the wave of his hand.

With a small bow, Ryker spun on his heel and strode from the room. If he was being honest with himself, he really had no desire to go after a fallen star. Especially with the amount of competition there would be.

The last time a star had fallen to Earth was a hundred years ago. In fact, it fell to Earth the same night Ryker’s grandfather was born, a family tale shared down through the generations. In all his thirty-two years, Ryker had never once imagined he would live to witness it unfold before his eyes.

There was no denying the bright light that streaked across the night sky the evening before. Ryker had been keeping an eye on it for months now. It grew closer and closer with each passing day. At first, he thought it may have been a planet, but after last night, that theory was blown well out of the water. Because if it was, then the ground he now stood on would most likely not exist.

Now that the star had landed, others would race to claim it. Some would be curious to see if the stories were true. Others, like Branoc, likely just want bragging rights. The ability to show off a rare treasure that no one else could have.

Did the king even know what a star was? Did Ryker?

There was a good chance he would find a useless rock, yet if his family’s stories were anything to go by, then the star in fact was in human form . . . not a rock from the heavens that, after a few years, lost its value and became a paperweight on someone’s desk.

If Branoc suspected the star was indeed of human form, what did he hope to gain from it?

Courtiers and servants passed him in the halls––some fae, some human. Ryker nodded when he caught their eye, but remained silent.

Being a bounty hunter took its toll and for the last few months, Ryker had been considering lessening his work load. He’d groaned internally when royal guards knocked on his door this morning, summoning him to the palace. But after hearing the king’s offer, Ryker knew he couldn’t say no to such a large sum of money. He would send a portion to his parents and put away the rest for his retirement.

Ryker smiled to himself at the thought. He understood the challenges of living with limited resources, so despite the way he knew his mother would huff, he sent coin back monthly, alongside reassurances of his well-being and an elusive promise to visit as soon as he could.

His parents and sister lived in Sunriver, a quaint city nestled in the southern region. It sat along Emberfell’s borders, but did not belong under the jurisdiction of King Branoc’s reign.

The last visit, nearly two years ago, had been wonderful, yet painful. Memories he would rather not dwell on. Home had become a place of inner turmoil, prompting him to move closer to the palace four years ago.

The tiny, ruby pendant that hung loosely around his neck felt heavier with each turn of his fingers as he twisted it. He pushed the painful memories away as he reached the stone castle’s massive doorway. Sunlight hit his face and warmed his skin as he stepped outside into the lush grounds.

Emberfell was nearing the end of winter. Though spring was but days away, the ground still crunched underfoot in the chill of early morning. Well-kept gardens and flowering trees bloomed as far as the eye could see. King Branoc certainly had enough money to keep the place tidy and visually appealing.

The smell of freshly cut grass reached him as he walked towards the stables. Groundsmen busied themselves in the gardens with shears, trimming hedges and rose bushes. Ryker arrived at the stone stable where the king’s horses were kept, quietly stepping inside.

A stable boy recognised him and scurried off to fetch his horse. Moments later, a large, fully black stallion appeared, and Ryker smiled. For the past decade, Charlie had never left his side. Ryker had bought him with the first significant pay he earned—tracking down and returning an escaped prisoner at the behest of the local prison.

“Thanks,” Ryker spoke as he took the reins from the boy. “I hope he behaved himself.”

The stable boy nodded, grinning. “Yes sir, he did. He always does.”

Ryker nodded as he ran his calloused hand down the length of Charlie’s glossy mane. “Yes, he does.”

As they left the stables, the rhythmic clop of hooves clamoured against the cobblestones beneath them. The castle fell away behind them, and they wove through the arching gates, emerging into the city of Emberfell. The air was alive here, not with the sterile silence of court, but with the pulse of life itself. Expansive, hand-carved fountains rose like jewelled sentinels, water cascading over precious stone, glittering beneath the midday sun.

They passed patrols along the well-maintained roads—guards casting brief glances their way before returning to their watchful duties. Elves mingled with humans, their ethereal grace catching Ryker’s eye as they passed. A group of siren shifters lingered near a merchant’s stall, displaying conch shells doubling as tankards. Even a lone half-orc shuffled by, half-forgotten beneath a heavy cloak.

The kingdom boasted residents from all over this portion of the world that they called Sapphire Vale. All but faeries, if they truly existed. Rumour claimed some walked unseen among the people. A myth, perhaps. Or, Ryker thought, with a slow exhale, a truth veiled by something far more dangerous.

Anyone with wealth lived here, and while Ryker could afford to live in such a grand place, he chose a quieter life on the outskirts of the city—deeper in the protection of the woods.

“It’s the Hound,” a small girl cried from the bustling crowd.

Heat rose in Ryker’s stomach, making it hard to relax. He glanced over and offered the girl a strained smile. He was used to being recognised here, but the name still caught him off guard from time to time. Some looked at him sideways, usually offering him a wide berth, choosing to walk on the other side of the street.

With a swift glance, Ryker scanned his surroundings, his eyes catching the subtleties most overlooked. A young woman’s face peeked from behind a lace curtain in a window high above, her gaze fleeting. Three buildings down, to his right, an elderly woman stood cloaked in shadow, her handkerchief slipping unnoticed into the dirt.

Charlie tossed his head. Eager to be free from the confines of the city as the pair turned down a side street paved with cobblestone.

A well-dressed gentleman—possibly a siren shifter by the looks of his angular facial features—opened the door of a shiny new carriage. Ryker observed the small strip of pale skin around the ring finger on his left hand. Either he recently separated from his wife or was keeping his marriage a secret.

“Fresh meat! Fresh meat!” the butcher called from his stall.

A female elf carrying a large basket of eggs on her head crossed in front of him as a human woman holding a bunch of freshly picked wildflowers met his eye and moved to make a space between them. Wealthy couples shuffled past arm in arm and young paper boys called out the headlines as loudly as they could.

He tugged the reins, guiding Charlie towards a narrow alleyway just as the smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. His mouth watered at the thought of a warm slice paired perfectly with a glass of rum. He should head for home to collect the essentials he needed for his trip, but there was one task he needed to do first.

* * *

Ryker exited the bakery with a lemon tart in hand and one for the road. Who knew how long it would be until he was back? He untied Charlie and pulled himself into the saddle, setting off down the road. As he left the hustle and bustle of the city behind him, Ryker eased Charlie into a canter. Dark green smudges streaked by, the trees dissolving into a blur of colour. The crisp air rushed against him, biting at his skin as Ryker shuddered in the saddle, the chill threading through the warmth of his jacket.

Soon, an ample wooden cabin came into view and Ryker tugged Charlie to the left of the trail, heading towards home.

“Woah boy!” Ryker hissed as Charlie pulled up sharply. “I know you’re dying to go on a run, and we can do that soon, but for now, contain that energy a little longer.”

Worn brown boots thudded on the ground as Ryker jumped down from the saddle. He held Charlie’s head in his hands as he spoke. “I am going to get some things and then we will be on our way.”

Charlie snorted in response.

As Ryker drew a large iron key from his pocket, he sighed, making his way up the four sturdy wooden stairs that led to his front porch. He unlocked the front door and pushed, its rusty hinges creaking as it opened. The comforting smell of home welcomed him, the room filling with light as he stepped inside. Ryker shut the door with a quiet click, slipping the key into his pocket before shrugging off his coat and carelessly draping it over the back of a small, worn wooden chair.

There was no spare minute to light a fire or sit down and rest his legs. Time was of the essence, and he really needed to get a move on. His cupboards weren’t bursting, but he gathered what was left: cheese wrapped in wax, a small pot of butter, a few apples, some dried meat strips and a bottle of rum into a canvas bag. All of this, with the fresh bread and lemon tart, would last him a few days.

In his room, he packed out of habit, tossing what he got in with what he had. He’d be faster if he didn’t bog himself down with supplies.

Ryker already had his longsword hanging around his waist and two daggers, one in each boot. All he needed to do was collect his bow and arrows by the door before he left.

He hesitated in the doorway of his room, drumming his fingers against the wooden frame before returning to his dresser to fish out a handful of handmade dreamroot darts. They didn’t have enough dreamroot in them to kill, but one would certainly knock a grown man out for a few hours.

He closed the door behind him, gathering the food bag and glancing around the living room. Deer-hide rugs lay strewn over the wooden floor, and two large, dark brown leather armchairs faced the stone fireplace. His eyes rested on a framed picture of his family that sat on the mantle beside a cluster of sad looking candles. He would need to purchase new ones.

His home was modest, the kind built for a small family—three bedrooms, an outhouse, and a kitchen that was just the right size for quiet meals. His fingers reached for the ruby pendant resting against his chest, absentmindedly toying with it, feeling its smooth edges. Family wasn’t in the cards for him.

After Ryker was satisfied that all the windows were locked and secure, he gazed at the large map on the wall next to his front door and drew a finger along a trail, the paper crackling softly beneath his fingers. The fallen star had landed roughly a three-day ride away, and there was a good chance someone would reach it before him—though he was not particularly concerned about that. If they did, he would simply hunt them down and take the star from them.

A sturdy wooden bow and a quiver full of arrows sat by the door. Ryker grabbed them as he headed outside. Charlie patiently waited as he strapped bags and ropes to the saddle.

Ryker sighed, giving his home a last look. Soon he would be able to stay for longer than a week or so . . . soon life would slow down and maybe he could finish that canoe out the back that he’d been carving out for the last few months.

With a heave of effort, he pulled himself into the saddle, then he and Charlie set off to find the fallen star.