The Order's halls were quieter the next morning. Word hadn't spread to the public yet, Paladins kept their voices low. Staff moved quickly, glancing toward the mission lists more often than usual. Even the trainees had stopped sparring early.
Something was shifting.
Nathan sat alone in the upper balcony of the training hall, overlooking the empty sparring ring below. He twirled the emblem at his belt between his fingers. It caught the morning light just enough to shimmer—just enough to remind him of what he wasn't allowed to be.
Not yet.
He'd dreamed of the beast again. Not the fight, but its presence. That impossible stillness. The feeling of being watched, like it had known he was there long before he made a sound.
He hadn't told anyone about that part.
A knock echoed behind him.
"Door's open," Nathan called without looking.
Theo stepped in, holding two warm rolls wrapped in cloth. "Figured if we're being told to rest, we might as well eat like kings."
Nathan raised an eyebrow as Theo dropped beside him. "One roll each is 'eating like kings'?"
"Absolutely. It's all about mindset." Theo tore off a piece with his teeth. "Plus, I traded something valuable to get these. You owe me."
"For a roll?"
"For the roll. There's cinnamon in this."
Nathan smirked faintly, then took his own. They ate in companionable silence, the kind that didn't need to fill every space with words.
Then Theo leaned back against the wall and said, "You think they're going to send us back out there?"
Nathan took a breath. "Yeah. Eventually."
"You up for that?"
"No choice," Nathan said, staring ahead. "You?"
Theo shrugged. "No one ever thinks I'm up for anything. I like proving them wrong."
Down below, a few Order members entered the ring. Not paladins—mercenaries, like them. They began drills, swords flashing, laughter light but disciplined. Normalcy in motion.
Nathan stood. "Let's get a training room."
Theo blinked. "We're off-duty."
"I know. Let's still be ready."
Later that day, Sirah found them both in one of the lower courtyards, sweat-drenched and mid-spar. She watched for a moment, arms crossed, before speaking.
"Rest time's over."
Nathan stepped back from the bout, catching his breath. "What changed?"
"We got confirmation." Sirah's voice was crisp. "Another sighting. No casualties yet—but it was closer to the eastern farms this time. Too close."
Theo straightened. "And the Council?"
The Council, 5 figures, each representing a different arm of the World's power. War, Trade , Faith, Shadows, and Demons. Together, they guided the Continent's decisions… or dragged their feet in endless debates.
"Meeting now," Sirah said. "But they're moving cautiously. You two are being reassigned. Observation team, two days out. A researcher will join you."
Nathan frowned. "Who?"
Sirah looked like she bit down on something sour. "Her name's Veyra. You'll like her. Just... don't try to argue with her."
"Why?" Theo asked.
"She always wins."
Theo blinked. "Always?"
Sirah gave a grim smile. "You could hand her a rock and she'd convince you it was your idea to carry it."
Nathan raised a brow. "Sounds exhausting."
"She is," Sirah muttered. "But she's also one of the few people the Council actually listens to—when they bother to listen at all. If she says something's worth investigating, they usually stop bickering long enough to approve a scout team."
"So she's the brains," Theo said.
"And the storm," Sirah added. "Don't underestimate her just because she doesn't carry a blade."
Nathan nodded slowly. "When do we leave?"
"First light," she replied. "Gear up, get some rest, and don't be late. She'll leave without you."
Sirah turned and strode off, already barking orders to a passing scribe.
Theo whistled low. "Guess we're meeting the storm in the morning."
The morning came cold and quiet.
"No sign of her yet?" he asked, glancing around.
Nathan shook his head. "Figured she'd be early."
"Maybe she wants to make an entrance."
She did.
A carriage rolled up—small, dark wood polished to a sheen, no insignia on its doors. It came to a clean stop, and the door swung open.
The woman who stepped out moved like she was on a schedule the rest of the world hadn't caught up to. Tall, wrapped in a layered coat of dark blue, her braided hair pinned back with small copper clasps that gleamed in the morning light. She carried no visible weapons, just a leather satchel slung over her shoulder, thick with scrolls and sealed tubes.
"Veyra," she said without waiting for introductions. Her eyes scanned them both like ledgers she'd already balanced. "You're the mercenaries?"
Theo gave a half-bow. "In the flesh."
She nodded once. "Good. Then we move."
No time for greetings. No time for chatter. She passed them and took the lead like it was already decided—which, Nathan figured, it was.
They followed her out into the wild.
The mission was straightforward on paper: hike to a ridge two days southeast of Aramore, establish a watchpoint, monitor for beast activity. But nothing about it felt routine. The ground out there was still unsettled from the last encounter. And the Council hadn't deployed Veyra just for company.
By midday, they'd reached the first checkpoint—a collapsed watchtower by the riverside, half-swallowed by vines. Veyra barely glanced at it before setting down her satchel and unfurling a map marked in thin, precise ink.
Theo leaned over her shoulder. "So what are we actually looking for? Another monster?"
Veyra didn't look up. "Not a monster. A pattern."
Nathan crouched beside her. "You think the migration wasn't random."
"I don't think anything about this is random," she replied. "When beasts that powerful shift territory, it's because something worse moved in behind them."
Theo made a face. "Worse than the one we saw?"
Veyra looked at him. "Scarspawn leave decay. This didn't. Which means it isn't natural. And it isn't from this side of the Veil."
Nathan's jaw tightened. "You think a rift opened."
"I think," Veyra said, rolling up the map again, "we'll know more when we reach the ridge. Until then, keep your eyes open. The woods around here haven't been quiet in days."
She stood and moved ahead again without waiting.
Theo watched her go, then glanced at Nathan. "Storm's here."
Nathan didn't answer. The woods ahead whispered with a hush that wasn't natural. No birdsong, no rustling leaves, just the soft crunch of boots over dead foliage and the low creak of trees straining under something unseen.
They moved in tighter formation after that. Veyra kept to the front, her hand occasionally brushing one of the copper clasps at her belt, murmuring soft incantations under her breath. Nathan recognized none of them. Theo had gone quiet too, no jokes, no lazy observations.
The deeper they went, the worse it got. Trees warped in odd directions. Bark peeled off in long, pale strips. Something in the air was... off. The kind of wrong that curled at the edge of your gut like a warning.
"Here," Veyra finally said, stopping at the edge of a shallow clearing. She crouched low, brushing a layer of leaves aside to reveal scorched earth beneath. A perfect circle. Burned, but cold.
Nathan stepped forward, boots crunching lightly. "Same kind of mark from the last sighting."
"No," Veyra said, straightening. "This one's older." She turned slowly, gaze scanning the perimeter. "It was here before. Nesting."
Theo frowned. "Nest—?"
The word snapped off like a branch underfoot.
A crack echoed from the treetops. Then silence again.
Then another snap. Closer.
Veyra raised her hand, a shimmer of blue forming along her wrist. "Eyes up."
The forest around them dimmed as something enormous moved above. A long, low growl rumbled through the trees—not a roar, but a warning.
Nathan's breath caught. He recognized the shape before he saw the whole of it. The eyes—gleaming violet in the shadows. The fangs that shimmered faintly with heat. The plated hide that flexed and shifted like molten glass turned solid.
It was the same beast.
The Surnok.
It charged.
Theo shouted a warning, diving to the side as the creature slammed into the clearing, scattering dirt and splinters in a shockwave of force. Nathan rolled to avoid the swipe of a tail thick as a tree trunk, drawing his blade with practiced speed.
"Veyra!" he called.
"I know!" she snapped, already tracing symbols in the air. Light lanced from her fingertips, striking the beast's shoulder. It reared back, not wounded, but stunned. Long enough for Nathan to close in.
He slashed at its flank, the blade skimming off with a spark. "Armor's too thick!"
Theo flanked from the left, his spear dancing with precise, lightning-fast jabs. The beast twisted, swiping wildly. A claw grazed Theo's side—he stumbled, but kept his footing.
"This thing isn't hunting," he gasped. "It's guarding something!"
Nathan narrowed his eyes. Beneath the beast's massive feet, the scorched earth had a pattern—not just burns. Markings. Symbols.
"This is the nest," he said aloud. "It's not migrating. It's staying here."
Veyra's eyes widened. "Then we're standing in the heart of it."
The beast roared, but there was desperation in it now—like a creature cornered rather than victorious.
Nathan clenched his fists, the edge of Nova thrumming in his core. The power begged to be unleashed, to end this.
He held it back. He had to.
Instead, he called to Veyra. "Can you bind it?"
"Maybe. If you give me time!"
Nathan nodded. "Theo, cover her. I'll distract it."
And then, without waiting, he ran straight at the beast.
It turned to meet him—teeth bared, molten breath curling into the air.
This was no longer a hunt.
This was a warning.
And if they failed here, the rest of the Continent wouldn't get a second one.