The sun was sinking when Arka first saw the city.
Its towers rose from the desert like fangs of stone, shimmering gold under the dying light. Giant statues of beasts lined the walls dragons, serpents, wolves, falcons all carved in poses of reverence.
At its heart stood a colossal monument:
a wolf's head made of obsidian, eyes burning with silver fire.
"The City of Tharos,"
the wolf's voice murmured.
"A place that once hunted us. Now, they worship what they fear."
Arka walked closer, the sand whispering beneath his boots. Cloaked in shadow, he looked like any traveler. But when he passed through the gates, every beast carving on the walls flickered faintly, as if recognizing him.
The guards shivered. One muttered, "Did you feel that?"
Another shook his head. "Just the wind."
But the statues kept watching.
✦ The Market of Fangs
The air inside the city was thick with incense and blood.
Merchants sold claws, fangs, and beast pelts remnants of the wild turned into trinkets. Priests painted symbols on the foreheads of pilgrims, whispering blessings to "The Great Beasts Above."
Arka watched in silence. Every chant, every offering, every cry of faith felt wrong.
He could feel the faint echo of his kind buried deep beneath the prayers.
"They took our memory," the wolf said bitterly.
"And built temples from our bones."
Arka stopped near a small shrine. A child was kneeling there, praying. Her voice was soft but steady.
"Please… protect Father in the northern hunts."
When she opened her eyes, she saw Arka watching.
"You're not from here, are you?" she asked.
Arka shook his head. "No."
She smiled innocent, unafraid. "Then may the beasts guide you too."
Her words lingered in his chest longer than he expected.
✦ The Silver Hunter
That night, chaos came.
A roar tore through the city loud enough to shatter glass and wake the sleeping.
A wild beast, enormous and maddened by corrupted mana, burst through the northern gate.
Panic followed.
Guards were crushed, stalls burned, and the air filled with screams.
Arka stood in the street, watching the creature's form: half lion, half vulture, its wings burning with black fire.
"A creation of stolen blood," the wolf hissed. "They've been tampering with what they don't understand."
The beast lunged toward the marketplace. The same child from before screamed, frozen in fear.
Arka moved.
Silver light exploded from his body, tearing through his cloak. His eyes blazed, and the mark on his chest came alive stars swirling across his skin.
He leapt, faster than sound.
The ground cracked beneath him. His palm met the beast's throat, and a surge of energy rippled outward.
The creature froze then disintegrated into motes of light.
Silence fell.
People stared. The priests fell to their knees. Someone whispered, trembling:
"...The Silver Hunter."
And just like that, a legend was born.
✦ The Whisper of Faith
By dawn, Tharos was alive again but changed.
Everywhere Arka went, people whispered about him.
Some called him a saint of the beasts.
Others a punishment sent from the heavens.
He stayed silent. He didn't want worship. He wanted answers.
In the shadows of the temple, he found one an old priest waiting with calm eyes.
"I know what you are," the priest said softly.
"You're the echo of what we buried."
Arka's gaze sharpened. "Then you know why I'm here."
The priest nodded. "Yes. And I know what hunts you."
He turned toward the temple altar, where a mural showed a wolf fighting against a dragon wreathed in fire.
"The Third Seal sleeps beneath the Dragon's Spine," the priest whispered.
"But so does the creature that destroyed your kind the Flame Serpent, Zhyral."
Arka's hands tightened. "Then that's where I'm going next."
"Be warned," the wolf said inside him.
"The serpent is not just an enemy. It was once… my brother."
✦ A New Dawn
As the morning light broke across Tharos, the city's bells rang for the first time in centuries.
But they weren't calling for prayer they were calling his name.
The Silver Hunter.
The one who walks between beast and man.
Arka stood at the city gates once more, cloak fluttering behind him, eyes fixed on the crimson horizon.
"Three seals remain," he murmured.
"And a world waiting to remember its monsters."
He took his first step east, toward the mountains that burned like dragonfire.