They didn't return to Blackhollow Keep like heroes.
They returned like people carrying a secret too heavy for their packs.
The road back from Greyfen cut through low hills and winter-bare woods, the land growing more populated the closer they came to the inner territories—more carts on the road, more farm fences, more smoke rising from chimneys. Normal life. Ordinary commerce. People complaining about the price of grain and the bite of wind.
People who still believed the Beast Continent was a distant problem.
Kael walked at the front without speaking much. The bow rested across his back like a quiet sentinel. The Mark under his skin pulsed occasionally, not flaring, not demanding—just reminding him that whatever had been sealed was no longer content to stay asleep.
Nyx kept scouting ahead, slipping off the road and reappearing a hundred paces later as if she'd never left. She was quieter than usual, her humor sharpened into something more guarded.
Borin's bandaged arm slowed him, though he refused to admit it. He carried the hammer anyway, letting it hang from his shoulder like a promise he wasn't sure he wanted to keep.
Elyra spoke the least. Her gaze drifted to empty spaces between trees and lingered there, as if expecting something to step through.
On the second afternoon, the Keep's dark silhouette finally rose against the ridgeline.
For a moment, Kael expected relief.
Instead, he felt… resistance.
Like the stone itself didn't want them back.
Nyx noticed his pause. "You're thinking again."
Kael exhaled. "Feels like walking into someone else's story."
Elyra's voice was low. "It is. You just stepped into the part they tried to erase."
They passed through the gates with minimal fuss. The guards recognized the crest. Recognized their weapons. Recognized the way their faces had changed.
Inside, Blackhollow was the same—training dummies, iron racks, the scent of smoke and sweat—but the air felt tighter than before, like everyone was holding something unspoken behind their teeth.
A scribe approached them immediately. Not a trainee clerk—an older one, ink-stained hands, eyes sharp.
"The Grey Hunt?" he asked.
Kael nodded.
The scribe hesitated. "Captain Maelor requests you. Now."
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "She's eager."
"Not her," the scribe said quietly.
Elyra stiffened. "Then who?"
The scribe's eyes flicked toward the administrative wing. "Registry oversight."
Kael felt the Mark warm faintly.
Nyx muttered, "Of course."
They were escorted through corridors that seemed narrower than Kael remembered. Past doors that had been closed during training. Past rooms where voices stopped when they passed.
The meeting chamber was plain. Stone table. Two lanterns. A wall of shelves stacked with ledgers. No banners. No pride.
Captain Maelor stood at the far end, arms folded.
Serah Vale leaned against the wall beside her, expression grim.
Grend Hollowfist sat on the edge of the table like he didn't believe in furniture.
Hadrik stood near the back, half in shadow, watching Kael like he was measuring the distance between now and a mistake made centuries ago.
And at the table's center sat Magistrate Seln.
Clean cloak. Controlled posture. That same voice that didn't need volume.
Her eyes settled on Kael and didn't move.
"You returned," Seln said.
Nyx smiled thinly. "You sound surprised."
Seln ignored her. "Report."
Kael didn't sit. "Greyfen confirmed. Westcliff confirmed. The breach is real."
Maelor's expression didn't change. But Serah's jaw tightened.
Seln nodded once, as if ticking a box. "Describe the breach."
Kael did. Without drama. Without embellishment. The seam. The mist. The feeling of something pressing against the world. The way it had reacted to him.
When he finished, Seln's gaze sharpened. "And you closed it."
"Yes," Kael said.
Seln's eyes flicked briefly to Maelor. "You trained them well."
Maelor didn't accept the compliment. "I trained them to survive. Not to become secrets."
Seln's voice was calm. "Survival requires secrecy."
Nyx leaned forward slightly. "You mean control."
Seln met her eyes. "Stability."
Elyra's voice cut in, quiet but firm. "Stability is a lie that buys time."
Seln didn't deny it. "Time is valuable."
Borin's hands clenched. "Not if people die while you count it."
Seln's expression softened just slightly. "People always die. Our job is deciding how many."
Silence fell.
Hadrik spoke from the shadows. "And who."
Seln's eyes flicked toward him. "And who."
Kael felt the Mark pulse faintly again. He didn't like the way Seln watched it—like a tool being evaluated, not a person.
"What do you want?" Kael asked.
Seln didn't hesitate. "I want you to continue doing what you did. Quietly. Off-ledger. Without stirring panic."
Nyx scoffed. "So we become ghosts."
Seln nodded once. "Yes."
Maelor's voice hardened. "They are probationary hunters. They are not a private blade."
Seln's gaze didn't shift. "They are what they need to be."
Serah pushed off the wall. "You're turning them into a cover story."
Seln finally looked at Serah properly. "You of all people should understand why."
Serah's eyes narrowed. "Don't speak to me like I don't."
Hadrik's voice was low. "That's enough."
The air tightened.
Kael held his ground. "Before we take another contract, we need to ask something."
Seln gestured. "Ask."
Kael's voice stayed steady. "Why were we sent to Greyfen?"
Seln's pause was slight but real.
"Because you have no history yet," she said. "And because your Mark would react."
"So you used us," Borin said bluntly.
Seln's gaze slid to him. "I deployed you."
Nyx smiled humorlessly. "Same thing."
Elyra's eyes were distant, listening. "You're hiding other breaches."
Seln didn't deny it. "We are managing multiple reports."
Kael's Mark pulsed faintly again, like it disliked the word managing.
Maelor stepped forward. "If you're going to keep secrets, you at least owe them one truth."
Seln's gaze sharpened. "No."
Serah's voice was icy. "Then I'll say it."
Seln snapped, "Serah—"
Serah didn't stop. She looked at Kael. "The containment wasn't just walls and patrols. It was a seal. And seals require anchors."
Kael's throat tightened. "Anchors?"
Hadrik finally stepped into the lantern light. His face looked older up close, carved by time and regret.
"People," he said. "Places. Bloodlines. Oaths."
Borin frowned. "You're saying—"
Hadrik cut him off. "I'm saying the world didn't just push beasts into a continent. It chained something beneath it. Something that made beasts behave like beasts."
Elyra whispered, "So if the chain loosens…"
"Then beasts stop being only beasts," Hadrik finished.
Nyx's voice was very quiet now. "And the Mark?"
Hadrik's eyes locked on Kael. "The Mark was given to hunters tied to the original anchors."
Kael felt his stomach drop. "So I'm—"
"Connected," Serah said, softer now. "Whether you like it or not."
Seln's voice was sharp again. "This is why you do not discuss it openly."
Kael's Mark pulsed once, hard.
And then—
A scream.
Not inside the room.
Outside.
High, distant, carried through stone corridors like a knife.
Everyone froze.
Another scream followed—closer.
Then the unmistakable sound of a bell, not the training bell.
An alarm bell.
Maelor was already moving. "Report."
A guard burst into the chamber, breathless, face pale. "Captain—there's an attack in Brineholt."
Seln's brow furrowed. "Brineholt is—"
"A day's travel," the guard said, voice cracking. "The city's sending riders. They say it's a beast. A lion."
Nyx blinked. "A lion?"
Borin frowned. "That's not—"
Elyra's face drained of color. "It shouldn't be here."
Kael felt the Mark flare—not painfully, but sharply, like a compass needle snapping into alignment.
"It's real," Kael said.
Seln stood slowly. "A lion is not a low-tier aberration."
Maelor's voice was cold. "And Brineholt isn't a border village."
Serah's eyes narrowed. "If a beast can hit a city—"
"—then the lie is breaking," Hadrik finished.
Seln's gaze locked on Kael. "You will go."
Nyx's smile returned, razor-thin. "That wasn't a request."
Seln didn't pretend it was. "This cannot become public."
Borin's jaw clenched. "People are screaming."
Seln's voice hardened. "Which is exactly why it cannot become a story."
Maelor stepped forward, standing between Seln and the Grey Hunt. "They are exhausted."
Seln's eyes stayed flat. "Then they will learn what hunters actually are."
Kael didn't wait for the argument to end.
He grabbed his bow.
"Pack now," he said to his group. "We ride."
Nyx was already moving. Elyra followed, expression tight. Borin hesitated only long enough to flex his arm once, grimacing, then lifted his hammer.
As they left the chamber, Hadrik's voice followed Kael like a warning.
"If it's a lion," the old hunter said quietly, "don't think of it as an animal."
Kael didn't turn back. "What do I think of it as?"
Hadrik's voice was almost a whisper.
"A message."
Brineholt
They didn't ride alone.
Two registry riders accompanied them—silent, hard-eyed, wearing no insignia beyond the inner sigil. Not guards. Observers. Witnesses who would report what they wanted reported.
Nyx noticed immediately.
"They don't trust us," she murmured.
Borin snorted. "They're right not to."
Elyra kept her eyes on the road. "They're not here for us. They're here for what happens when Kael's Mark reacts."
Kael didn't respond. He felt it already—the pull, faint but constant, drawing him north-east toward Brineholt like an invisible thread.
As the sun lowered, smoke became visible on the horizon.
Not black smoke from fire.
Grey smoke from panic—lanterns, torches, signal fires, the chaos of a city that had decided night was unsafe.
They reached Brineholt near dusk.
The gates were half-open, guards clustered, faces strained. The city was larger than Greyfen by a wide margin—stone walls, tall buildings, crowded streets. Trade hub. People. Noise.
Now, fear.
They were met by a city captain wearing chainmail and exhaustion.
"Hunters," he said. "Thank the gods."
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Which gods? We're not cheap."
The captain didn't laugh. "I don't care what you cost. Just kill it."
Kael held up a hand. "Where?"
The captain pointed deeper into the city. "Old market quarter. Near the river. It came out of nowhere—broke through a fish stall, tore a man in half, then vanished into the alleys."
Borin's face tightened. "Any pattern?"
The captain shook his head. "It's hunting."
Elyra's voice was quiet. "Or searching."
Nyx stepped forward. "Any sightings since?"
"Just screams," the captain said. "And tracks we can't follow because no one wants to go close."
Kael nodded once. "Take us to the last site."
They moved quickly through streets lined with people pressed against walls, windows, rooftops. Faces stared at them like the Grey Hunt had arrived to mend a world that didn't deserve mending.
A woman whispered, "Hunters," as if saying the word might protect her.
A man spat near Kael's boots. "Too late."
Nyx glanced at him. "You want to try your luck with the lion instead?"
He went quiet.
At the market quarter, chaos had been contained but not cleaned. Blood stained stone. A fish stall lay shattered. A body had been dragged away, leaving a smear like a dragged shadow.
Borin crouched, studying gouges in stone. "Claws."
Nyx's eyes tracked broken crates. "It moved fast."
Elyra's gaze was unfocused. "It's still here."
Kael felt the Mark pulse once—hard.
He turned toward a narrow alley between two buildings.
"That way," he said.
The city captain frowned. "How do you—"
Kael didn't explain. He didn't have time.
They followed the alley, the city noise dulling as buildings pressed closer together. The air smelled of damp stone and old river water.
Nyx moved ahead, blades ready.
Then she stopped.
Kael saw it instantly.
A print in mud near the river's edge.
Not a wolf's.
Not a beast continent aberration's.
A lion's paw.
Huge.
Fresh.
Borin swallowed. "That's… real."
Elyra whispered, almost reverently, "A king of beasts… walking in a human city."
Nyx's voice was flat. "Kings bleed too."
A low rumble rolled through the alley.
Not thunder.
A growl.
Deep enough to vibrate the stones.
Borin tightened his grip. "There."
The lion stepped into view.
It was massive—larger than any natural lion should be. Its mane was darker than night, thick and wild, and its eyes were wrong: not animal, not human, but something in-between, like intelligence wearing hunger as a mask.
It didn't charge immediately.
It stared.
It looked at Elyra. Then Nyx. Then Borin.
And then its gaze settled on Kael.
The Mark flared like a heartbeat gone violent.
The lion's lips curled back, revealing teeth too long, too sharp.
Nyx whispered, "It recognizes him."
Borin's voice was tight. "Like the beach beast."
Elyra's staff trembled faintly. "Like it's been told."
The lion took one step forward.
Kael raised the bow.
And the city behind them fell silent, as if Brineholt itself was holding its breath.
"Grey Hunt," Nyx said softly, almost like a prayer.
Kael's voice stayed steady.
"Do not let it reach the crowd," he said.
Then he loosed the first arrow.