A howl tore across the mountain ridge.

  Not the cry of a wolf. No natural creature ever made a sound like that.

  It was too sharp. Too long. It curved in the air, like a blade scraping the inside of the skull. Another answered. Then another. Distant at first, then closer. Too close.

  Kavari’s ears twitched as her hands instinctively went to her blade.

  Kael shifted. His eyes went cold and sharp in the firelight.

  The soft silence between them broke, but something unspoken remained—like a promise wrapped in steel.

  “They’re calling to each other,” Kael said, voice calm despite the tension winding through his frame.

  “Howlers,” Kavari muttered. She was already up, checking her pack, tightening her armor straps. “Sound like three, maybe four. Circling.”

  “Could be more,” Kael said, standing now, movements efficient. “Hard to tell in these canyons. Echo plays tricks.”

  Runt sat up quickly, groggy but alert, her instincts flaring. She reached for her gear.

  Kael crouched near her, his voice low but steady. “Remember what we told you. If they get too close, don’t let them surround you. Watch for the blink. And don’t look away when they scream—just breathe through it.”

  Runt nodded, jaw clenched, eyes wide with tension but holding steady.

  Kavari checked the fire pit. “We dug deep. They might not smell us. Might.”

  Kael shook his head. “They already know. That wasn’t random. That was a challenge.”

  Another scream echoed—closer now. The sound warped the air around it, and even the fire seemed to flicker in response.

  Kael stepped out toward the edge of their camp’s perimeter. He looked into the night and whispered to no one in particular.

  “Come on then.”

  Behind him, Kavari grinned faintly, teeth flashing in the firelight.

  Runt slid next to them, claws flexing.

  And together, they waited.

  Not running.

  Not hiding.

  But ready. The first Howler came from the ridge above—its body sleek and sinewed, veins of glowing mana threading through mottled gray skin. It blinked through the air, vanishing in a shimmer of warped light and reappearing mid-pounce.

  Kael was ready.

  He pivoted and drove his spear upward, the point punching through the creature’s throat with a wet crunch. Its scream died mid-air as it slammed into the ground, twitching, claws raking dirt in its death throes.

  “Here they come!” Kavari shouted, voice sharp as three more Howlers erupted from the darkness.

  They blinked in bursts of shimmering blue and purple, bounding across the rocks with uncanny grace—eyes like molten glass, fangs long and curved like hunting knives.

  Kael twisted his spear free and dropped into a low stance, already moving to intercept. The spear spun, whistling, and caught the next Howler clean in the shoulder. It screeched and clawed at him, managing to rake across his leather and leave thin gouges in the armor. He growled through clenched teeth and planted a boot into its chest, sending it tumbling off the ledge.

  Behind him, Runt bared her teeth and dove into the fray.

  She moved like fury unchained—her claws flashing as she launched herself at a blinking Howler mid-leap. They collided in a tangle of limbs and roars. She bit down on its neck, hard enough to crack bone, and tore it open in a spray of steaming blood. Another blinked behind her. She rolled, fangs snapping, but its claws raked her side before Kael’s spear lanced through its ribcage.

  “Keep moving!” Kael barked.

  Kavari surged forward, plate gleaming in the moonlight, Pridefang in both hands. Her first swing cleaved through a Howler’s front leg, severing it clean. It screamed, but she didn’t stop—another strike finished it. A third Howler blinked behind her, jaws wide, but her armor held. Teeth scraped steel. She spun and crushed its skull with a two-handed overhead strike, blood spraying across her pauldrons.

  More came.

  They poured in from the shadows—seven, ten, maybe more.

  Kael’s arms ached. His spear was chipped, stained, notched from repeated strikes. He fought like a storm—fluid, unrelenting. One Howler blinked toward Runt, and he threw the spear with everything he had. It skewered the creature mid-leap and pinned it to a boulder with a sickening crunch.

  Kavari took a hit to the shoulder, her armor denting inward. She staggered, then roared—her voice primal—and slammed her elbow into a Howler’s snout, breaking teeth. She carved a brutal arc with her sword and split it down the middle.

  Runt took a shallow bite to the thigh but didn’t falter. She screamed, a wild, piercing battle cry, and launched herself at two Howlers at once. She bit into one’s eye socket and raked her claws down the other’s chest, painting the rocks red.

  “Runt, behind!” Kael shouted.

  She ducked just as another blinked in. Kael rushed forward, shoulder-checking the beast away, and drove a dagger into its spine. It convulsed violently and slumped.

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  The pack began to falter.

  One blinked, hesitated. Another backed toward the darkness.

  Then the rest broke.

  The survivors turned and ran, vanishing into the trees and shadows with blink after blink—no more howls, just blood and the hiss of their retreat.

  Silence fell.

  Kael was breathing hard, blood smeared across his face, leather armor scratched and covered in gore. He looked around, spear dragging behind him.

  Runt sat in the dirt, panting, blood on her lips and scratches down her leg. She was smiling.

  Kavari leaned on her sword, chest heaving beneath her armor. Her hair soaked with sweat and blood, a thin scratch tracing her cheek.

  Kael walked over and helped her steady.

  “That,” Kavari muttered, “was a lot more than a scouting pack.”

  Kael nodded. “They’re desperate. Fadefall is pulling them closer.”

  Runt wiped her mouth and stood, swaying slightly. “Did I do good?”

  “You didn’t die,” Kavari said flatly, but her voice was warm underneath. “Good enough.”

  Kael clapped a hand to Runt’s shoulder and pulled her close. “You fought like a ironbound tonight.”

  Runt beamed.

  They limped back to the firepit, bodies sore, armor torn, but alive. Around them, the rocks glistened red, and the wind carried away the stench of blood and burnt mana.

  And for now, the mountain was theirs.

  The battlefield of broken howlers cooled behind them, steaming blood already crusting over the rocks. Kael said nothing as they moved, only gave Runt a nod—and then they began the quiet work of breaking camp. Their hands moved with silent precision, Kael and Kavari teaching Runt in low murmurs how to bury coals, scatter footprints, and fold blankets so no impression was left behind.

  “Leave no warmth, no trail, no memory,” Kavari had whispered. “Not even to ghosts.”

  By the time Solanir began to rise, its golden edge climbing over the jagged peaks, the worst of the cold began to recede. They pressed northward, through winding stone ridges and scrub-choked paths that narrowed as the day wore on.

  It was quiet. Too quiet for Kael’s liking. No more Howlers. No game. Even the wind felt cautious.

  Still, they made good time.

  That evening, they found a narrow hollow nestled in the cliffs—half-sheltered from view, stone on three sides, wind-break from the north. A place you could hold if you had to. They made camp again, smaller fire this time, carefully shielded. Kavari did most of the cooking while Kael kept watch, his eyes on the slivers of distant torchlight far below in the valley.

  Runt curled up not far from the fire, wrapped in her coat and a too-large blanket, chest rising and falling in the rhythm of exhaustion.

  Kael sat beside Kavari, watching shadows dance across the cliff wall.

  “You could sleep,” he said.

  She shook her head and pulled her travel blanket tighter around her shoulders, the patterns of Duskrock embroidery catching the firelight like tiny suns. “Not yet.”

  She edged closer. Their knees touched.

  Then, softer—carefully—she asked, “Marrow Vale?”

  Kael didn’t answer immediately.

  He stared at the fire. Let the word settle on his tongue like an old scar, familiar and bitter.

  Marrow Vale.

  The name tasted like blood and ash. The place where something in him broke—or maybe solidified.

  He looked out across the mountains, where the stars hung cold and uncaring above the peaks. Runt snored quietly, a soft rustle under the wind.

  Kael exhaled.

  “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Marrow Vale.”

  He didn’t flinch this time.

  “Have you heard of the Eclipsed?” Kael asked, his voice low beneath the quiet crackle of the fire.

  Kavari tilted her head, brow furrowed. “No,” she said, cautious. “Should I have?”

  “To tell the story,” Kael murmured, staring into the coals, “we have to talk about stakes and powers… not of this world.”

  He shifted, his tone taking on the cadence of old memory—half history, half myth, like something whispered down through bloodlines too stubborn to forget.

  “There used to be a fourth throne, The Tetra Crown,” he said. “The Throne of Faith. It stood alongside the other three—War, Law, and Lore. A place held by divine oracles and spiritual sovereigns. They were supposed to be balance. Wisdom. They claimed communion with something higher.”

  Kavari said nothing, her eyes locked on him now, the firelight catching the faint shimmer of her blackened plate.

  “But two centuries ago,” Kael continued, “during the Great Fadefall, the throne fell. The divine orders fractured. Some of the priesthood saw the Fadefall as a sign. A divine test. Others saw an opportunity. They tried to take control while the realms were weak, fractured. They made a move—tried to seize the other thrones. A theocratic coup.”

  “And it failed?” Kavari asked quietly.

  Kael nodded. “The now called Triune Crown united for the first time in generations. They shattered the Faith’s armies. Burned temples. Executed high clerics in the open squares.”

  He paused, took a breath.

  “But not all of them died.”

  Kavari’s eyes narrowed. Her ears twitched slightly in the cold mountain breeze.

  “The survivors disappeared,” Kael said. “They went underground. Took their relics, their forbidden spells, their holy texts—and twisted them. Warped them. Whatever divine light they once claimed? It was eclipsed by what they became.”

  “The Eclipsed,” Kavari said, the word barely audible.

  Kael nodded once, solemn.

  “A cabal of fallen priests, rogue mages, broken prophets. Heretic cults and forgotten saints, all bound together by one thing: their hunger for power. The kind that can’t be reasoned with. The kind that tears holes in the world just to hear what screams back.”

  Kavari stared at him now, the fire reflecting in her eyes like a pair of smoldering suns.

  “And who stopped them?” she asked.

  Kael’s jaw flexed. His gaze drifted to the stars overhead—cold, distant, silent.

  “The Bound Wardens and others,” he said. “Only them. No banners. No glory. Just long shadows, long knives, and longer memories.”

  “At Marrow Vale,” Kael said slowly, voice rough with old ash, “I met one and got recruited after.”

  Kavari’s ears twitched.

  “One of the Eclipsed,” he clarified. “And a Bound Warden who fought him.”

  The fire crackled between them. Runt stirred in her sleep.

  “He crushed everything,” Kael continued. “That mage. Like the sky had teeth. The spells he cast... they didn’t just kill—they unmade.”

  He stared into the flame as if he could see it all again, reflected in the orange light.

  “There were only a few of us who lived through it. The Princess. A handful of Silver Stalkers. Me.” He flexed one scarred hand unconsciously. “The rest? Meat on the red plains. And the mountains—somehow redder still.”

  Kael gave a bitter smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  Kavari leaned closer, shadows playing across her face. “You were a Bound Warden?”

  There was surprise in her voice—more than surprise. A quiet kind of awe.

  Kael looked at her for a long moment. Then he let the silence stretch until it nearly broke.

  And laughed.

  “Ancestors, no,” he said with a grin. “They fucking hated me.”

  Kavari blinked, caught off guard by the sudden turn.

  Kael leaned back, eyes flicking toward the dark ceiling of stars above them. “I still remember the beady-eyed officer reviewing my file. Looked up at me like I was a walking plague.”

  He lowered his voice in a mock-serious tone. “‘You’re basically deranged,’ he said. ‘A lust for battle that rivals the battle born. Arrogant. Self-centered. The likes of you would tarnish our great order.’”

  Kael chuckled to himself. “Something like that. It was years ago.”

  Kavari tilted her head. “But… you said you were recruited?”

  “I was,” Kael said, eyes softening. “A Family.”

  He turned to look at her, a half-smile curving his lips. “Different kind of family. Like a pride, but not quite. Still had rituals. Histories. Oaths you didn’t break. Secrets you didn’t speak.”

  He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach far. It wasn’t meant to.

  “For years I flinched from the memory. From all of it. But not tonight.”

  Kavari didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

  Instead, she shifted the blanket, silently extending a corner toward him.

  Kael hesitated—but only for a breath—before moving closer. Not quite touching, but near enough to feel the warmth she offered.

  The fire cracked. The mountain watched.

  “Wait.” she asked quietly. She put a hand on his thigh in alarm.

  Kael looked around as shadows approached their camp.