The night air was cold enough to bite. Halvern's breath misted as he adjusted the strap of his cloak, the heavy fabric falling back into place over his sword arm.
Six soldiers moved in his shadow — not trainees, not raw recruits, but veterans with weathered faces and calloused hands. They carried spears with heads engraved in tight spiral patterns, each line faintly glowing in the dark. The only sound was the crunch of frost under their boots.
"Trail starts here," murmured Sergeant Kael, crouched beside a splintered tree. The bark bore three deep gouges, each wider than a man's thumb. Blood — dark and nearly black in the moonlight — stained the roots.
Halvern's eyes narrowed. "It's not hunting deer anymore. That's from livestock… maybe a farmer's pack horse."
No one needed to say what that meant. The Monster was growing bold.
Kael rose, holding out his lantern. It was a squat brass thing, etched with runes that shimmered when he twisted the handle. The air ahead lit in ghostly blue, tiny motes swirling where the magic revealed fresh mana traces. The trail wound through the trees, headed deeper into Ashwood.
"Spread formation. Keep within signal range," Halvern ordered. His voice was low but sharp enough to cut through the dark.
The squad moved. Boots found silent footing on damp leaves. Breath was kept slow and steady.
The Ashwood was different at night — branches like skeletal arms clawed at the moonlight, and every distant snap of wood sounded like a predator's teeth.
They found the first carcass less than a mile in. A stag, throat torn open, ribs cracked apart. The body was still warm. The Monster was close.
Kael glanced up from the corpse. "It's feeding in bursts. Moving between kills."
"Which means it's aware it's being followed," Halvern said. "Good. Let it think it's the hunter."
They closed in.
The air grew heavier, colder, as they reached a ravine choked with brambles. From beyond, a sound carried — low, guttural breathing, followed by the wet snap of bone.
Halvern raised a fist. The squad froze.
The Monster stepped into view, moonlight catching on skin that shifted like oil, its bulk wrong against the shapes of the trees. Eyes glowed faintly green, reflecting more light than they should.
It saw them.
There was no roar — just a blur of movement.
The first spear hit the ground where it had stood, the glow from its runes flaring on impact. The Monster twisted aside, too fast, and closed the distance toward Kael.
Halvern's blade was already in his hand, its steel lined with a narrow seam of silver that pulsed with heat. He stepped into the Monster's charge, angling low — not to kill, but to cut deep across its forward leg.
The beast screamed then, an ugly, human-like note.
"Bind it!" Halvern barked.
Two soldiers flanked in, stabbing their spears into the ground at opposite angles. From each weapon, chains of red light erupted, slamming into the Monster's sides. It thrashed, snapped one, then the other, but the moment's restraint was enough.
Halvern stepped forward, his left hand tracing a jagged shape into the air. The seal flared gold, brighter than the moon, and the ground beneath the Monster cracked with heat.
"Fall!" he commanded.
The golden flare became a spear of fire, driving through the Monster's chest. Its shriek cut through the trees and echoed off the ravine walls.
When the light faded, it lay still. Smoke curled from the wound, and the air smelled of scorched meat.
Silence settled over the squad.
Kael spat into the dirt. "Ugly bastard."
Halvern kept his sword in hand. He scanned the trees, every instinct telling him the hunt wasn't over. Not truly.
From far off — faint, but carrying on the cold air — came a different sound. Not a roar, not a growl. A long, mournful cry that rose and fell like a tide.
The Beast.
The squad shifted uneasily. One soldier muttered, "Sounds close."
Halvern sheathed his blade. "It's not our target tonight. We're done here."
As they turned back toward the city lights, Halvern's gaze lingered on the dark horizon. The Monster was dead, yes — but something else was watching. Something intelligent.
And for reasons he couldn't name, the sound it made didn't feel like a threat.