Noct was about to speak when the thunder of hooves broke through the air. The sound rolled down the road, hard, pulling every gaze toward the horizon.
Tarth crouched, pressing his ear to the frozen ground. “At least ten horses,” he said. “And not like ours.”
Riders?
Elios was still in thought when a distant shriek of wind cut across.
“Incoming!” Tarth roared, already diving behind the trunk of a dead pine by the roadside.
“Prepare for engagement,” Elios ordered through clenched teeth.
“Hold,” Azen said calmly, narrowing his eyes toward the sky.
A spear came plunging from above and struck the snow some ten paces before them. Its head buried deep, the shaft quivering like a living thing.
“What's this about?” Elios frowned, casting Azen a sharp glance.
Noct nonchalantly stepped forward and wrenched the spear free with one hand, turning it thoughtfully.
“It does not seem meant to kill, but rather—”
“A stupid test,” Azen finished, striding forward. He seized the weapon from Noct's grasp, drew it back with a twist of his torso, and hurled it skyward in a single fluid motion.
The spear tore through the air in a graceful arc before driving into the trunk of a tree, no more than five paces before the foremost rider of the horde.
There was almost no reaction, though Elios could see the riders' advance slowing down a bit.
Azen didn’t even wait for the coming sihouletes to become clear. “That's the cavalry from Dubas.”
Seeing the confusion on their faces, he added, “When you didn’t return last night, I sent the falcon for reinforcement. Dubas was the nearest stronghold. Did you think I just stood here waiting all day?”
Orin scratched his head, frowning. “But we can’t requisition troops like that. You need a lord’s seal to march cavalry.”
“The commander there knows me,” Azen said with a shrug. “In emergencies, he can act first and answer his lord later. One time won’t end the world.”
A few moments later, a troop of about twenty riders appeared—armor gleaming, formation tight, every motion drilled and disciplined. The man at their head looked to be around fifty, broad-shouldered and wolf-eyed. His voice boomed like a temple bell.
“What’s the meaning of this, Azen?”
Azen barked a laugh. “What, can’t an old man call in a favor for a drink, Issak? You’ve got your men, I’ve got mine. Let’s see who collapses first.”
Elios caught movement in the ranks—one rider licking his lips, another gulping beneath the helmet—but none dared breathe too loud. The commander’s face was stone, though his eyes burned.
"This is no place for joke,” Issak said coldly. “I rode out without the lord’s sanction. You owe me an explanation before I take this as an insult.”
Azen’s grin faded. “Then call it even. The debt between us is settled.”
That drew surprise from the man—shock first, then anger. “You wasted my promise on this? On a damn jest?”
Elios stepped forward. “Actually, the truth is—”
“Silence, boy,” Issak snapped. “Let the grown men talk.”
Elios’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, he considered smashing that smug face with his battered fists.
“This ‘boy’ happens to outrank me,” Azen said with a harsh laugh. “Elios’s under Lord Viltar’s direct tutelage. Show some respect—he’s earned it.”
At the mention of the Archon, Issak's expression shifted. He studied Elios anew, his eyes recalculating what they saw.
Azen went on, “I did send for you in earnest, but the situation’s handled now. You’ve done your part, and that’s enough. We’re square.”
Issak considered that, then shook his head. “This may have cost me some favor, but not nearly enough compared to what I owe you. A debt is still a debt. We’ll settle it another time.” He turned in the saddle and raised his arm. “Form up. We return.”
Rigid as a brick, Elios thought. But it’s hard to hate the man.
Then an idea came to him. He called out before they could turn away.
“Wait, Commander. If you think the work’s been too light, perhaps you can help us a bit more—something to make your return easier to explain to your lord.”
The man paused, looking back at him with new consideration. Azen’s earlier words had clearly done their work; this time, there was respect in Issak's gaze.
“What kind of help?” he asked.
“We need the area sealed off,” Elios said. “Yesterday, we found a massive underground cavern running beneath us. The main entrance is in that mountain—eight miles southwest. Don’t go inside. Just find the opening and block it off. Also, there’s another access point, somewhere in the woods—three hundred paces south. An old shaft, likely collapsed by now, but have it checked anyway. Whatever’s down there must not get out.”
Issak frowned, curiosity glinting in his wolfish eyes.
“And what exactly is down there?”
"There is a lake,” Elios said. “And hidden in it a creature. Extremely dangerous. Do not engage.”
The man stroked his beard. “A monster, is it? You insult my riders, Seeker. What type of beast could twenty well-trained soldiers not bring down?”
“The unknown one,” Elios replied, his voice flat but firm. “And no, it wouldn’t matter if you brought twenty or two hundred men. You’d die all the same before you know it. Believe me, that thing is pure death. The sole reason it failed to kill us was that it took us too lightly. Don’t make the same mistake.”
Orin chimed in, nodding. “You should’ve seen it tossing a wagon like a child’s toy. Didn’t even strain.”
Issak’s brows drew together. “Couldn’t be a drovar, could it? Something kin to it?”
“I doubt it,” Elios said. “The thing was grotesque. But I won’t be surprised if it’s worshiped somewhere too.”
He watched Noct out of the corner of his eye. Her face stayed composed, but the faint twitch along her jaw betrayed her. Teeth grinding, fury contained.
Indeed.
Everyone knew that the Frothena venerated drovars—those magnificent winged beasts that once ruled the skies—not only as gods, but also as ancestors. Even now, long after the last drovar had fallen, they still called themself Drarkhael, meaning drovar’s blood. Elios’s words had been no different to a slap across that pride.
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The stoic commander turned to look at Azen, as if waiting for his opinion.
“Well?”
“Don’t mind me,” Azen shrugged. “He was there, and I was not. But I trust the man. If he says it’s bad, it’s bad.”
Elios said, voice low and steady.
“It was huge, fast, and incredibly cunning. Worse—my fear is its experience with people. Gods knows how many it has swallowed. But just from the voices we heard from it—”
“It could speak?” Issak cut in, his brows drew tight.
“Not exactly,” Elios corrected. “It mimics. It uses the voices of those it devours to lure the next prey, and it does it very well. It might even have our voices replicated already. Even if those voices fail to trick you, the monster could still use them to alter your minds. They have that mental effect somehow, though it’s not permanent. My advice is to plug your ears and use sign commands only."
Issak’s face tightened; for the first time, the levity bled out of the commander.
“Too insidious. And we just leave it be?”
“Of course not,” Elios said. “We withdraw on our terms, not its. I’m taking this back to the Tower—poring over every scrap of lore and record I can find, learning what this thing truly is. Next time, we’ll come prepared, and we’ll show it what it means to be hunted. In the meantime, seal the openings. Do not let innocents wander into its maw. It’s already butchered a whole caravan. The more it learns from us, the deadlier it becomes.”
“Still, sitting around waiting isn’t the way of riders,” Issak said, shaking his head, “In the end, it’s just a beast. A beast with its instinct, which could be used. There’s a way to kill it without ever showing our faces.”
“You mean traps?” Elios asked.
“Poison,” Issak said flatly. “We’ll slaughter a cow, gut it clean, pack every cavity with white arsenic — lungs, gut, muscle — then dump it in that damned lake. I don’t believe the creature will turn it down.”
“In an ordinary case, you’d be right,” Noct said, cutting in. “But this thing isn’t ordinary. It’s clever — frighteningly so. We tried to fool it once, and it nearly turned our own trick against us. If you use poison on meat, it’ll notice the strange smell. And as Elios said, we don’t even know what it is. We don’t know what kind of poison might work. Try that now and fail, and it’ll never fall for it again. It learns fast—”
“Hold,” Issak said, eyes blinking at Noct. Only now did he seem to register her presence. “Who are you again?”
“I’m Noct,” she answered briefly.
“A woman.” he asked, frowning. “What’s she doing here?”
“Noct’s the only survivor of the caravan,” Elios said, overseeing her, trying to read what angle she was playing. “Her insight may be worth hearing.”
Issak gave a brief nod, conceding the point. “Very well. Go on, then”
“And from what I’ve seen, that abomination wasn’t even after food. It’s developing a taste for the hunt itself.”
“What makes you think that?” Issak asked with an amused voice.
Noct’s tone remained calm, almost clinical. “Its size, for one. If you’d seen it, you’d understand. A thing that gigantic can’t survive on a few human bodies now and then. To it, we’re just bread crumbs. But it chose to hunt us. It spent time, thoughts and effort into it. It even gave us room to react, to struggle. That felt more like a game. It wanted to see how its moves worked against us. It wanted to play.”
Tarth muttered under his breath, “I thought only humans hunt for entertainment.”
Noct’s eyes flicked toward him. “Did it strike you as a mere beast? With that kind of intelligence, it’s closer to us than to animals.”
Even with doubts, Elios couldn’t argue with any of that. When the entrance collapsed, the creature had stopped throwing stones. It didn’t crave slaughter. It wanted meaning in that. It wanted to win.
Made sense.
“Which makes it not just a threat, but an enemy,” Issak nodded slowly. “Now this is no longer a deal between us, but truly my duty.”
He then turned to Noct, “Good catch, girl. If I hadn’t been told otherwise, I’d have taken you for a Seeker yourself.”
Elios said nothing, but the thought coiled hard behind his eyes.
Is that what she’s doing? Trying to make herself seem trustworthy?
A sympathetic survivor. A valuable ally.
Though to Elios, even her profound understanding of the thing raised some questions.
But that must come later. Noct’s insight made him realize another problem.
“Hold!”
Elios turned toward the mountain, his gaze distant, shadowed by thought.
“This is bad,” he said quietly, his face drawn tight. “An assault plan may no longer be possible.”
“What’s wrong?” Issak asked.
“Noct’s right,” Elios replied. “That creature’s far too large. The underlake down there couldn’t have sustained something that size. It must’ve grown elsewhere — somewhere vast, with richer prey.”
“It came here from somewhere else? How?”
Elios nodded. “Most likely from the White Sea. Or at least from a great river, something like the Caska. I saw signs of tide marks in the cavern’s lake — strong differences in water level. That’s not a closed body of water. It’s connected to something larger.”
Issak drew in a sharp breath, the frost misting before his lips.
“Then we can’t even be sure it’s still down there.”
“Exactly.” Elios exhaled through his nose, the air white and heavy. “It could still be lurking below, or it might have found a new hunting ground. Veyra’s waterways stretch thousands miles — if it’s gone, it could be anywhere.”
Issak’s brow furrowed, deep lines cutting into his weathered face. “We need to locate it fast. As long as that thing’s alive, every soul near water’s at risk — especially the fishing towns.”
Elios considered, jaw working as he chose his words.
“The best course remains patience,” he said at last. “All the knowledge we need sits in the Tower. Once I’ve scoured the records, we’ll know where to look—or how to make it come to us. Then we’ll kill it for the least cost.”
Azen’s face closed at that. “You were trained at the Tower. What if this is the only one of its kind anyone’s ever seen? What if you’re the only one who can write anything useful about it?”
“That would make our problem far worse,” Elios admitted. “If that’s true, I’ll press Archon Viltar to raise this at the Imperial Summit next week. As I said—this thing could be anywhere. Every kingdom should know and cooperate.”
Azen scoffed. “You don’t really expect the Archon to attend, do you?”
Elios blinked. “What do you mean? The Archon of the Tower, not presented at a continent-wide summit, held right in the Tower?”
“He’s been bedridden for nearly a month,” Azen said. “Thought someone close to him like you would've known.”
Something like cold clockwork clicked in Elios’s head.
Oh…
Of course—he knew, and more than they supposed. He had been quietly tasked to investigate this very matter.
Lord Viltar wasn’t ill. He had been poisoned.
But that man was no helpless victim. He had anticipated the attempt and been fully prepared. The sickness was just a farcade. The theatrics hid a web of politics Elios wasn’t foolish enough to untangle aloud. For now, the important thing was simple: the Archon was fine, and in Elios’s judgment, would appear at the Summit.
But of course, Elios couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Azen.
After a long pause, he asked, “If the Archon won’t attend, who will preside over the Summit?”
“Most likely the Frothen's delegate,” Azen replied. “It’s likely their turn next year to assume the Archon’s chair. Nothing unusual about that. The event was planned months in advance.”
“Unusual?” Issak snorted. “Two kingdoms ready to tear each other’s throats out, and their man came here—to Veyran soil—calling it a gesture of peace and friendship? Sounds like mockery to me.”
“The Tower only stands in Veyra,” Azen said patiently. “It doesn’t belong to us. And tell me, who in their right mind would stir trouble there? Not even kings are foolish enough to offend the Tower.”
“Frothen may,” Elios said, his voice colder than before. “They’ve been pruning their presence at the Tower for years—cutting staff, pulling their scholars back home. Their delegates only show up when duty demands. The Tower’s principles don’t fit their doctrine. To them, that place may be revered, but it isn’t sacred. Not like Mount Karthos on their own land.”
Noct said slowly, “You’re underestimating the Tower’s influence, even in Frothen. The age of drovars is nothing but a dream.”
Issak spoke up. “All right. In the meantime I’ll coordinate the recon and seal the area. We’ll make sure nothing else happens.”
Azen folded his arms. “If you truly want to check whether it’s still beneath that cave, there’s a less risky way—but it’ll need more men. At least forty.”
“We don’t have the manpower,” Issak said. “The city’s forces are thin after those Frothena infiltrated the border —”
“Wait.” Elios raised a hand to cut him off. “Frothena? When?”
“Don’t you know?” Issak asked, surprised. “Last week, a few Frothena vessels snuck into Veyra via Caska. They were enormous ships, but were all burnt later after being split inland along secret routes, so nobody knew exactly what they had transported. The Frothena escorts were all elites, too—our border guards were taken without a sound. Strange. I thought the Seekers would’ve been on that immediately.”
Issak was right; this was the sort of thing the Seekers should have been tracking. And yet, Elios had received no dispatch.
His eyes flicked to Noct, then to the gold-hued shards in Tarth’s hand. The thought tightened in him.
These two incidents might be parts of a bigger one. Could the Royal Treasury really be involved? Was someone high up colluding with Frothen?
He kept that suspicion to himself and watched Tarth shrink back until the man found his voice. “Why not ask Lord Viltar about this? We need to get back to the Tower soon anyway. With the Imperial Summit being held there next week, security will tighten every passing day. It may not be a problem for you, but it will be harder to bring folks like us in afterwards.”
“Reasonable,” Elios said, nodding. He turned to Azen. “We part now. You and Orin stay in Dubas and coordinate with the cavalry. Orin has fought the monster down there; his experience will help. Once his leg holds up, send him back. I’ll take your mount for now, Orin.”
Azen led three horses out from the trees and brought them to the little knot of travelers. He glanced at Elios’s heavily wrapped wrist, then hesitated as his eyes moved to Noct.
“You two sure you can handle horses? Need to ride double?” he asked.
Elios gave a short, dry laugh and spun up into the saddle with a single graceful motion. He looped his left forearm through the reins and said, half-jest, half-pride.
“You taught me my riding tricks, old man. This will do.”
Noct’s mouth twitched—something between a smile and a snarl. She took the reins without fuss and said flatly.
“He’ll need both hands if he hopes to keep up.”
Hearing that, Elios let her ride first. If she was truly such a good rider, he wanted to see for himself. It would also be easier to keep an eye on her that way.
And although he was never fond of striking from behind, he had to admit it was the best position.