The next day, Moner and Novamelle made their way to the bustling market at the city center, excitement and nerves tangled in their chests.
They finally sold the glowing, winged deer for 4,000 silver coins. It was less than the 5,000 they had aimed for, but it was still a fortune.
A gruff merchant, known for trading rare beasts, inspected their goods with a critical eye.
"5,000 silver coins?" he scoffed, fingering the glowing wings. "Far too much. I'll offer you 4,000."
Novamelle crossed her arms, refusing to back down.
"It's worth every bit of 5,000. That's a hundred times a regular deer."
The merchant shrugged lazily.
"You didn't bring the full creature—only the skin and wings."
"But that's the best part!" Moner protested sharply, frustration leaking into his voice.
The merchant smirked, clearly enjoying the struggle.
"Believe me, no one else will offer even 3,500."
He turned away, signaling the conversation was over.
Reluctantly, Moner and Novamelle tried their luck around the market.
Yet every offer they received was worse—3,500 silver or less.
Biting down his pride, Moner returned to the first merchant.
"Fine. 4,000. Deal."
The merchant chuckled.
"Smart choice. Tell me your names."
"Moner," he said through gritted teeth.
"Novamelle," she added proudly.
"Well, hunters, the name's Nero.
But aren't you two a little young to be chasing beasts like these?"
Novamelle's gaze was fierce.
"We do what we must to survive. That's reality."
Nero laughed, clearly impressed.
"I like your fire. Bring me more, and we'll do good business."
"You'll see us every week," Moner promised, determination burning in his eyes.
Week after week, the twins dove back into the dangerous forests.
But rare creatures lived up to their name.
Sometimes weeks, even months, passed without a single catch.
Still, they never gave up.
One chilly morning, after endless failures, a soft, melodic hum floated through the trees — the unmistakable song of the invisible rabbits.
Novamelle's ears perked up instantly. Without hesitation, she fired an arrow.
A faint shimmer betrayed the rabbit's position, and the arrow pinned it cleanly to a tree.
Moner, reacting fast, brought down another.
The rest of the rabbits vanished as if swallowed by the forest.
"We did it!" Novamelle cried, rushing forward with a wide grin.
"Finally," Moner breathed, exhaustion and pride mixing in his voice.
Novamelle carefully cradled the captured rabbits.
"We have to keep them alive. Dead ones are worthless."
But Moner's optimism had thinned.
"We can't keep going like this… wasting weeks with nothing to show for it."
Novamelle's smile faded.
"You're right. Maybe we need a new plan."
Returning to Nero's stall, they were met with a booming laugh.
"Didn't you say you'd come every week? It's been months!" Nero teased.
Moner scowled.
"Cut it out. This isn't as easy as it looks."
Nero's smile softened.
"Hey, kid. No shame in struggle. Maybe luck will find you next time."
Novamelle lifted her chin high.
"We're not quitting."
"You're stubborn. I like it," Nero said, amused.
"I'll give you 2,000 silver for both."
Moner shook his head firmly.
"They're alive and rare. 2,500."
Nero grinned.
"Tough negotiators. Fine. 2,500."
In truth, Nero knew they were worth far more.
For two long years, Moner and Novamelle kept hunting.
They captured three ivory-toothed foxes, creatures of terrifying speed and ferocity, and sold them for a handsome price.
But as time dragged on, the thrill began to fade.
The danger felt heavier.
Their dreams seemed farther away.
One afternoon, Moner collapsed under the shade of an ancient oak tree.
"I wish we could just camp out here," he muttered.
Novamelle shook her head firmly.
"We can't. Everyone who stayed too long caught some strange disease. Even the best hunters."
Moner sighed.
"Figures."
At fifteen years old, new thoughts crept into their minds.
Dreams beyond survival.
Hopes of something better.
"Let's take a break this week," Novamelle suggested.
"Best idea you've ever had," Moner chuckled, closing his eyes against the sun.
At the city's central park, among the laughter and chatter of others their age, they met old friends — John and Seifor.
Seifor stood proudly, a glint of excitement in his eyes.
"I just turned seventeen. I can apply to become a government soldier now."
"That's incredible!" Moner and Novamelle said together.
But John looked deeply uneasy.
"Please, don't do it, Seifor. Most who apply… die."
The twins froze, the weight of the words hitting them like a stone.
Moner frowned.
"If he fails, he can try again. Right?"
Seifor shook his head grimly.
"Moner, there is no second chance. Fail the entrance exam, and you're executed. Ninety percent don't survive."
John nodded quickly.
"My father told me. Only the elite make it through. It's suicide otherwise."
Seifor's voice sharpened.
"Don't try to stop me. I've trained hard. I'm not weak."
Moner smirked, rising to the challenge.
"Fine. When I'm seventeen, I'll apply too. And maybe… I'll do more. Maybe I'll become king."
John gaped.
"Are you crazy? Ninety percent fail!"
He added desperately,
"Why not look for strange jewels instead? They're safer… and might make you rich."
The three of them paused, the words lingering between them.
"Strange jewels?" they echoed.
A new idea flickered to life.
And somewhere, deep in the ancient woods, the ground stirred — as if destiny itself had heard their reckless dreams.