When it was dark, the Order sent out their scouts.
Cloaked figures moved like shadows beyond Aramore's walls, slipping through gates and alleys with practiced silence. They carried no torches, no banners—just sigils etched in silver thread and blades that glimmered only when drawn.
Nathan didn't sleep.
He sat by the window, the city quiet beneath a blanket of stars. Lanterns flickered in the alleys below, but they did little to chase away the chill that had sunk into him. Not the cold of night, but the memory of that sound—the way the trees cracked as if under the weight of something that shouldn't exist.
Morning came slow. Nathan rose, dressed, clipped the emblem back to his belt.
By the time he made it to the preperation room, the mood had shifted.
Sirah stood near the orb, arms crossed, her expression stony. Arlen was at her side, eyes sharper than usual, a rolled-up parchment in his hand.
A third figure stood at the far end of the table—a knight Nathan didn't recognize. Older. Tall. Heavy armor polished to a mirror sheen, helm tucked under one arm. His eyes were fixed on the red shimmer pulsing faintly across the orb's surface.
"You're up," Sirah said without looking.
Theo stood near the door, munching on a pear like none of it was out of the ordinary. He gave Nathan a quick nod. "They've got news."
Nathan moved closer. "What did they find?"
Sirah glanced at the older knight, who unrolled the parchment and laid it flat.
"The tracks from last night reappeared in two other locations—each several miles apart. Fresh. Not older signs."
Nathan frowned. "Multiple beasts?"
The knight's voice was low, measured. "We're not sure yet. But these creatures… they resemble something old. From before the Scarspawn wars. Before the Cataclysm. They are the ancestors of Varanthas. Something much stronger"
He pointed to a sketched silhouette on the parchment—massive shoulders, a hunched spine, talons like sickle blades. A reptilian snout stretched into a mask of bone, eyes hollow and sunken.
"We believe it may be a Vel'korrin."
Theo nearly choked on his pear. "That's a myth."
The knight didn't blink. "It was."
Nathan studied the sketch. The shape matched. The weight. The hunger. "Why now? Why here?"
"We don't know," Sirah said. "But if something forced it from its territory… we need to find out what."
There was a silence. The kind that settled when no one liked the question forming in the room.
What could displace a creature like that?
Sirah tapped a spot on the map. "We're assembling a team. Scouts, mages, cartographers. We need to trace its route. Find where it came from."
Then she looked at Nathan. "You're not on that team. Not yet. You and Theo are being held in reserve—for now. You encountered it first. If it returns, we want you alive to report it."
Nathan didn't argue.
He wasn't ready to see it again—not without unleashing everything he had.
Not without revealing who he really was.
As the others filed out, Theo lingered by the door. "Still think it's some fancy oversized lizard?"
Nathan didn't answer. He stared at the sketch. At the long claws. The hollow eyes.
No.
This wasn't just a beast.
It was a warning.
And it wasn't alone.
The next day passed in a haze of quiet routines. Nathan woke late, his muscles sore and mind still echoing with the memory of the beast's roar. No dreams. Just that hollow silence between sleep and waking—too still, too heavy.
Theo had disappeared sometime after breakfast, muttering something about "boring supply runs" and "not wanting to be dragged into paperwork." Nathan didn't ask questions.
He wandered.
Through the markets, now less crowded. Past the training courts, where paladins sparred in slow, practiced rhythms. Into the library for a brief moment—where the scent of old parchment reminded him too much of Kaela and Garrick's lessons.
He didn't stay long.
Even with the time off, the weight hadn't lifted. The silver-threaded emblem at his belt was a constant reminder: he wasn't a bystander anymore. Whatever they were hunting out there—it wasn't done.
That night, the orb pulsed red again.
The next morning, Sirah summoned them back to the briefing room.
"The tremors haven't stopped," she said without preamble, gesturing to a distorted topographic map lit with red sigils. "We sent two scouts last night. One came back. Shaken, injured, but alive. He claims the creature tunneled through stone. We've confirmed—there's seismic activity deeper in the ridge."
Nathan leaned in. "So it's still there?"
"Or it's made that place its territory," Sirah replied. "The scouts tracked its movements back to a cluster of old ruins near the west ridge. Abandoned mining site—should've collapsed years ago."
Theo frowned. "You're thinking there's a nest?"
"We're thinking there's something worth disturbing a legendary predator," she said. "And we need to find out what."
She turned to Nathan. "You and Theo are being reassigned. To investigate."
Nathan nodded slowly. "When do we leave?"
"Tonight."
Theo raised a brow. "Night ops? You expecting company?"
Sirah's expression didn't change. "I'm expecting something worse."
Later that evening, Nathan checked his gear. Blade. Rations. Cloak. A single flare crysta.
He paused at the door to his room, hand brushing over the hilt of his weapon.
His power pulsed quietly beneath the surface. Nova energy stirred like a storm in waiting. Threadstone hummed faintly, ready to shape into blades, armor—anything he needed.
But he couldn't use it. Not yet.
Downstairs, Theo waited with two canteens and a bag of dried fruit.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Hopefully," Nathan muttered. "Let's go."