The train screeched to a halt at a small, wooden platform. A sign, slightly crooked and coated in a thin layer of ice, read: Frostpine Outpost. The air that rushed into the carriage was sharp and cold, carrying the scent of pine and frozen earth, a stark contrast to the sooty warmth of New Arcanis.
"Wow. It's… brisk," Mira said, pulling her thin jacket tighter. Her breath misted in the air.
"Told you to pack a coat," Leo said, though he was shivering too. His Low District clothes were no match for the northern chill.
"I packed useful things. Like food. And this." She held up her lucky fishing hook with a grin.
The outpost was a single main street of rough-hewn log buildings tucked against a vast, intimidating wall of pine trees. At the far end, a massive, modern complex of steel and polished stone stood out like a spaceship that had landed in the wilderness—the Hunter Guild outpost, buzzing with well-equipped hunters. Their destination, the smaller, more utilitarian building next to it flying the Association's flag, looked far less impressive.
They trudged through the slushy street towards the Association office to register Leo's hunter card for local rifts. As they passed a noisy tavern called The Chattering Yeti, a loud voice boomed out, silencing the room for a moment.
"—absolute nonsense! A shadow that moves on its own? Fairy tales for greenhorns!"
Leo and Mira paused by the open door. Inside, a grizzled hunter with a frost-tinged beard was slamming his tankard on the bar, addressing the whole room. A younger hunter, looking defensive, stood his ground.
"I'm telling you, Jorgen! We saw it in the Maw! It wasn't a monster. It was like… a patch of darkness that swallowed Harl's light-spell whole. Then it was just… gone. And so was he."
The tavern fell quiet. The older hunter, Jorgen, scowled. "You lost your man to a predator you didn't see. It happens. Don't go spinning ghost stories. The Guild's put out a bulletin. It's a new breed of Stealth-Fang. That's all."
"The Guild's bulletin also says not to go into the deeper sections alone," a woman at a table muttered, not looking up from sharpening her blade. "Seems they're happy to give advice but not to investigate."
Jorgen waved a dismissive hand. "Because there's nothing to investigate! 'Vanishing hunters.' Pah! They probably bit off more than they could chew and got eaten. Simple."
The conversation broke into arguing factions, some siding with the young hunter, others with Jorgen. Leo felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He and Mira shared a look and moved on.
The Association office was quiet and smelled of old wood and ink. A tired-looking clerk took Leo's card and stamped it without looking up.
"New rift openings are on the board. Stick to the F and E ranks. D-Ranks require a verified team. You got a team, kid?"
"It's just me," Leo said. "And my… logistics manager." He gestured to Mira, who elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
The clerk finally glanced up, his eyes lingering on their patched clothes and thin jackets. He sighed. "Right. Well, the F-Rank 'Glimmerdew Caverns' is your best bet. Herbs and low-level cores. Safe as houses. Mostly." He pointed a thumb at a wooden board covered in parchments. "Map's over there. Don't go off the path."
As Leo studied the map, Mira nudged him. Two Association agents in crisp, official uniforms were talking in low voices by a back door. Leo strained to listen.
"…Voren's report was clear. The kid from the Wyrm incident is clean. Just lucky." "Lucky doesn't explain a wiped D-Rank team and a lone E-Rank survivor.Aoren's pushing for a deeper look. Thinks the boy might have stumbled onto a relic. Guild's interested, too. Quietly." "Well,he's not here. And we've got bigger problems. Another disappearance. A-Class this time. Vanished near the S-Rank 'Frozen Heart' rift. No distress call. Nothing." The other agent whistled lowly."An A-Class? That's not a Stealth-Fang. That's something else entirely."
The agents noticed Leo watching and immediately stopped talking, giving him a cold, professional stare until he looked away, his heart hammering against his ribs.
They're still looking into it. And the Guild knows. He felt the weight of the ring on his finger, a secret suddenly feeling very exposed.
They bought a cheap, threadbare tent and some supplies from a surly shopkeeper who eyed them with open suspicion. "Glimmerdew, eh?" the man grunted. "Watch for the fissures. Ground's unstable. Lost a few that way. Just… fell in. Never found 'em."
As they headed towards the tree line, the map in Leo's hand, the cheerful noise from the Guild outpost felt a million miles away. The forest loomed, dark and silent.
Mira hugged herself, shivering. "So. 'Safe as houses,' huh?"
"Mostly," Leo repeated the clerk's words, trying to sound confident. He looked back at the outpost, at the arguing hunters in the tavern and the whispering agents. The official story was one thing. But the real stories, the whispers exchanged over drinks and in hushed tones, painted a much more dangerous picture. The north wasn't just full of monsters.
It was full of secrets. And Leo was walking right into them.