Selfish.

Riven learned that fairies were selfish creatures that couldn't even spare a simple part of themselves, unlike Riven's kind who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice their whole worth for others.

At the age of ten, Riven's innocent hands were painted with crimson and fairy dust. Once, he had pleaded—begged for help from a fairy, to obtain their essence just for the sake of his people, only to be turned down almost immediately.

He had never been a believer of violence before. He despised it, even, but what other choice of action did he have when politely asking led to nothing but mere ignorance?

Besides, what was one lost soul to a world of billions?

That day, he had returned home, his chin held up high and his chest puffed as he placed the fairy's bloodied and torn wings before his parents.

Merciless he had grown, slaughtering these creatures with no remorse, only if it meant providing for the needs of his family who worked endless days at the farm.

It was another night purposed for a hunt as Riven hiked through a secluded fairy territory, his rifle clutched in his bloodied hands. Amidst the stillness of the dark, a faint sound emerged from within the trees.

His head turned as he continued forward, but before he could gather his thoughts, his foot unexpectedly landed on air rather than the solid ground. Riven's whole body weight leaned forward, gravity pulling him down the darkened pit of a cliff.

Riven's eyes widened as did his mouth, ready to shout for help that would never reach his aid. Yet, he felt a pair of arms suddenly wrap around his waist, tugging at his figure as his legs reunited with the Earth once more before he could properly meet with death.

How was this possible? Flabbergasted, he faced the one who had saved him from his demise, only for his shock to increase.

Their wings glimmered hypnotically, contrasting the midnight that engulfed their surroudings.

A fairy. A fairy had saved him, a fairy hunter.