Tharion stormed out of the physician’s building.

He cut through the crowd like a hoofed plow, leaving Garlan and Marenna behind without so much as a glance.

He didn’t stop until he reached the massive doors of the Adventurers’ Guild, which he kicked open with a sharp stomp.

— “I want to see whoever’s in charge. Now.”

Minutes later, he was inside a cramped office, walls lined with maps, feathers, and tiny vials.
The man across from him was a wiry half-human, the kind of genetic blend that suggested somewhere along the line, someone had gotten way too friendly with a ferret.

Short, twitchy, and with eyes that scanned everything like they owed him money.

An intelligence expert. Or a professional paranoid.

Tharion dropped the folded vest on the table. He gently pulled back the lining to reveal the symbol.

— “You know what this means?”

The half-human didn’t smile.
But his eyes lit up with a shadowy gleam.

— “Yeah.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
— “It means the nights are about to get deadly.”
He raised a finger.
— “And not from boredom.”

A few minutes later, the two teens burst into the room, panting.
Clearly, they hadn’t been able to keep up with a furious centaur, but they’d managed to follow his trail.

They stepped in and shut the door behind them.

The half-human eyed them, still reclined.

— “Everything suggests you two were the target,” he said calmly.
— “The real question is who sent them... how... and more importantly—why someone protected you.”

Tharion frowned, his gaze distant.

A flash. A memory.
Garlan, asleep... casting spells in his sleep.
Effortless. Unaware.

A thought surfaced.

— “What if… it was him?” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

He straightened, serious now.

— “Maybe this isn’t the first time his magic has reacted on its own. There’s a reason he was always alone. And why his house looked like it had been hit by a storm half the time.”

He turned toward Garlan.

— “Tell me, Garlan. Do you remember your night? What did you feel?”

Garlan furrowed his brow, thinking sincerely.

— “Hmm… I slept. I remember feeling a cool breeze at some point... and in the morning, I had a pretty nice dream. Well, more like a... happy vision when I woke up. Other than that—”
He shrugged.
— “Nothing much. Except a minor blanket fight with Marenna, that’s it.”

Tharion nodded slowly, then turned to the girl.

— “And you, Marenna?”

She shook her head.

— “Nothing unusual. Slept like a baby. No strange dreams or anything.”

Tharion crossed his arms, lost in thought.

A breeze… but weren’t the windows closed?

He paced around the office.

If someone had broken in and he’d blasted them with a wind spell... no way the door wouldn’t have blown off its hinges.
No way we wouldn’t have woken up.

He fell silent, chewing on the pieces.

Something’s missing.
But I’m almost certain it was him. He killed them. In his sleep.

He looked at Garlan, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

He’s getting more dangerous by the day.

They left the guild together. It had to be around noon.

And yet... the streets were empty.

No vendors.
No children.
Not a single sound.

Then they saw them: two adventurers, sprawled on the cobblestones.

Still warm.

The blood was fresh. One had his throat sliced clean, the other lay with his chest split open like a broken door.

A chill crawled up Garlan’s spine.

A laugh echoed through the alley—
sharp, gleeful, almost childlike.

Then, silence.

And finally… a voice.
Dry. Familiar.
Creaking with malice.

— “I’m back…”