Iruminai hurried through the early morning streets of Phasbar. The city was just beginning to stir, shopkeepers unlocking their doors and street vendors setting up their carts.

He spotted the meeting point ahead—a small square near the northern gate where travelers often gather before departing. A wooden cart stood ready, its canvas covering stretched tight over metal hoops. Several figures moved around it.

Mai stood apart from the group, scanning the street. When he caught sight of Iruminai, his eyes lit up with relief.

"There you are," Mai said as Iruminai approached. "Everything okay? You were cutting it close."

Iruminai adjusted his bag. "Had to say a proper goodbye. Are we ready?"

"We're about to be." Mai's eyes flickered to the sword hilt visible behind Iruminai's arm. His eyebrows rose in silent question, but before he could ask, a booming voice cut through the morning air.

“Alright, folks! Cart’s packed, route’s mapped, sun’s rising. Time to move out!” A broad-shouldered man with a mane of unruly red hair clapped his hands together at the front of the cart. Twin blades crossed at his hips, their hilts worn smooth from years of use. His voice carried like someone used to command.

"That's Deru," Mai whispered. "He's the party's leader."

Iruminai nodded as they climbed into the back of the cart. Thick blankets covered the wooden floor, which made the space surprisingly comfortable. Two women already sat inside—one with short orange hair reading a book, the other sorting through a pack of herbs.

The orange-haired woman closed her book with a snap, sharp amber eyes lifting to meet them. Her cropped hair was neat, scars crossing her jaw, leather coat slung over her shoulders—half scholar, half soldier.

"New blood, huh?" she asked. "I'm Myla."

Beside her, the quieter woman didn’t look up. Blonde hair fell loosely over her pale eyes as her hands moved with practiced precision, sorting herbs into small bundles. Every motion measured, unhurried.

“The quiet one over there is Lira,” Myla added with a faint smirk.

Lira offered a small nod without pausing her work.

"I'm Mai," he said, taking a seat opposite them. "And this is Iruminai."

"First time leaving Phasbar?" Myla asked, tucking her book away.

"For me, yes," Iruminai answered. "Mai's originally from Arcury."

The cart lurched forward with a whistle from Deru. The wheels groaned against the dirt as they rolled toward the massive gate.

Iruminai turned back, peeking through the tarp’s opening to watch Phasbar shrink in the morning glow—the city still and quiet beneath the pale light of the crystal islands above, their shapes blurred by haze.

Iruminai jolted awake as the cart hit a rough patch. He blinked away the sleep, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar swaying motion beneath him. The bag he'd been using as a pillow had slipped away.

Mai sat across from him, already alert and watching the passing landscape through a gap in the canvas. When he noticed Iruminai stirring, a sly grin spread across his face.

"Well, look who decided to join us. The princess finally awakens from her beauty sleep."

Iruminai ran a hand through his disheveled hair and chuckled. "Fuck off."

Mai stood up, stretching his arms overhead. "Come on. You'll want to see this." He motioned for Iruminai to follow him toward the back of the cart.

Iruminai rose, legs still stiff from the hours of travel. He followed Mai to the rear opening, where he pulled back the tarp covering.

The sight stole Iruminai's breath. Endless fields of wildflowers stretched out on both sides of the dirt path—violets, yellows, and deep reds swaying in the calm breeze. Ancient trees with sprawling branches line the horizon, their leaves catching the midday sun.

Having never ventured beyond Phasbar's walls, Iruminai stood transfixed. The beauty of the open country overwhelmed his senses.

"We're hopping out for a minute!" Mai shouted toward the front of the cart, waiting for a response.

Deru brought the cart to a halt with a sharp whistle. "Alright, break time! Fifteen minutes—then we're back on the road."

Mai tapped Iruminai on the shoulder. "Come on," he said as he swung himself over the back edge of the cart. Iruminai followed, landing with a soft thud beside his friend on the dirt path.

They walked around the edge of the wagon, curiosity pulling Iruminai forward.

Wood creaked as bodies shifted. One by one, the rest of the party emerged from their posts around the wagon.

A massive figure hopped down from the coach seat beside Deru, armor clinking as he landed. Broad shoulders carried an ornate shield strapped tight across his back. Despite his bulk, he moved with surprising control.

“That’s Jayce,” Mai murmured. “Looks like he should topple over under all that weight, but he’s faster than you’d think.”

Before Iruminai could respond, a faint click pulled his attention upward. Perched on the cart’s roof, a slim girl tightened the strings of a wrist-mounted crossbow. Each subtle twitch of her fingers made the threads hum with tension, practiced and precise. She looked barely older than Mai, yet moved with the confidence of someone who’d done this a thousand times. Then her eyes flicked down, catching him watching.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she called down, “Like what you see? Name’s Jori.”

"Iruminai," he answered, offering a polite nod.

She tilted her head, rolling the syllables with mock effort. “Iruminai… that’s a mouthful." Her smirk sharpened, quick and mischievous. "Think I'll call you Irumi. Suits you—kinda cute."

His brows lifted, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Cute? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Could be worse,” Jori said, twirling a bolt between her fingers with casual precision. “I’ve stuck people with far uglier names.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Then I’ll take the upgrade.”

“Smart choice,” she quipped, flashing a wink before turning her gaze back to the treeline, crossbow steady as if she’d never stopped working.

From the far side came a lean, scarred figure, his movements smooth. Scars marked his jaw and temple, a heavy greatsword slung across his back, carried as if it weighed nothing. His gaze cut sharper than the weapon itself, a predator’s calm calculation in human form.

"That's Kael," Mai said quietly, almost instinctively lowering his voice. "He's a Lunar—same as Myla and Lira."

Kael’s gaze passed over them—brief, unreadable, cold enough to make Iruminai’s shoulders tighten. Then he adjusted the strap of the greatsword slung across his back and kept walking, silent as before.

Iruminai exhaled slowly, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath. He shifted his attention forward—grateful for the distraction—and that’s when he saw it.

A massive stag stood harnessed, hauling the cart with hefty strides. Instead of fur, lush moss carpeted its powerful body, dotted with tiny wildflowers. Its antlers weren't bone but living branches, complete with leaves and small buds.

Iruminai found himself speechless, wondering what other strange sights this journey might reveal. But before he could even finish the thought, daylight vanished—the vibrant colors of the meadow being replaced by an impenetrable void that seemed to swallow all light.

A bone-chilling howl pierced the darkness. It rang in Iruminai’s chest, pulling at something ancient in his bones. The adventurers drew their weapons, their silhouettes tense and alert.

His peripherals caught it first, a blur slipping against the treeline. A tendril of ink-like shadow, impossibly dark even against the surrounding blackness, shot from the treeline with terrifying speed, aiming directly at his chest.

His body moved before he did. A twist, a drop. The spike sped past, so close he felt the air split around it. It punched through the cart’s canvas with a wet rip, then melted back like liquid shadow.

Deru’s voice rose, Myla’s too—but Iruminai heard nothing. No footsteps. No wind. Just silence, absolute and smothering.

Another spike.

He turned—and didn’t have to. Mai slammed into him from the side, knocking them both to the dirt. The impact stole his breath, ribs rattling as the world tilted. He coughed, gasped.

Above them, Lira swung her dagger, cutting through the shadow—or trying to. The weapon passed through harmlessly, as if slicing through smoke. It didn’t react. It lingered a moment, then slipped back into the trees.

Sound suddenly rushed back in, everything flooding in all at once—wind, footsteps, shouted commands.

And then the howl. Again.

"Get up!" Mai’s hand grabbed his collar, hauling him upright. His voice was sharp and scared, but he remained focused.

“My sight—it’s gone!” Deru’s voice yelled, taut with urgency. Still, his sword moved like a dancer—parrying a spike from behind with perfect precision, guided by sound and instinct.

Jayce stepped forward, shield raised like a wall. Spikes rained around him, hammering against metal. The shield held—for now—but Iruminai saw the cracks spreading across its surface.

Then the trees broke.

Something leapt from the brush—high, fast, silent. It landed beside Kael in a crouch, claws sinking into the earth with a dull thud.

It was a wolf, or at least took the form of one. Its body was covered in sleek, shadow-like fur that seemed to absorb all light. From its back, writhing tentacles of pure darkness flowed like smoke, constantly shifting and reforming. A bone-white mask covered its upper face, leaving only its mouth visible—a mouth that suddenly hinged open to an impossible width, revealing row upon row of jagged teeth that glistened with unnatural light.

It howled once more.

Iruminai staggered back. It wasn’t just sound—it was pressure. Like something was pulling at the seams of his mind.

Kael moved. A blur of blue lightning and motion. He blocked a claw strike mid-air, then vanished, leaving crackling energy sizzling in his wake.

He reappeared behind the beast. One clean swing. The greatsword—towering and brutal—cut deep into the creature’s hind leg.

No blood, but smoke. Tendrils. Black and endless, writhing from the wound. But even as they spilled out, they reformed.

Iruminai stared. He knew this thing—a Veil Hound, one of the most dangerous Lunox Beasts in the northern region of Ispin. A nightmare made real, ancient and hungry.

Kael vanished again and again, each flicker laced with lightning. His strikes carved through shadow-flesh, but every blow reformed.

Then—with a final blink—Kael flashed into view, suspended above the creature like judgement given form, blade gleaming in the dark.

And then it hit. Steel met bone with brutal finality.

The impact cracked through the creature's mask with a splintering crunch—and the Veil Hound screeched, a howl that would give even the strongest willed nightmares.

Darkness erupted in a violent ring. Kael raised his blade—but a green cord lashed around his torso, yanking him back. Iruminai tracked the arc of light past the shadows.

Myla braced, both hands on the radiant lasso.

Just in time.

Where Kael had stood just seconds before, jagged spines burst outward in a crown of shadow. Each spike shimmered with malice. They stabbed at the air, searching—too late for their target.

The cocoon of shadow-spikes dissolved into smoke, curling away in the wind. What remained was the Veil Hound—exposed, furious. Its eyes flicked beneath the fractured mask, restless and sharp, hunting for what had slipped its grasp.

Kael stumbled to his feet, chest heaving. "Shit," he spat, wiping blood from his lip. "'Hit the damn thing dead center. Shoulda' cracked its skull!"

Iruminai watched as the Veil Hound's head swiveled, its fractured mask revealing one glowing eye that swept across the battlefield. The movement was unnaturally fluid.

Then it stopped.

The creature went still, its gaze locking onto Mai. It began coiling—gathering force. The shadow tendrils around it seemed to pulse, drawing inward like a breath before a plunge.

Iruminai's warning caught in his throat.

The Veil Hound lunged. Not a run—a blur. A living streak of shadow tearing across the ground. Dirt kicked up in its wake, the forest floor shredding beneath it.

Mai moved on instinct. The Veil Hound surged, tendrils whipping like liquid darkness. His heart hammered, but his mind stayed eerily calm.

He dropped low, fingers digging into the dirt. The beast's trajectory was predictable—a straight line of hunger and intent.

As it closed the distance, Mai pivoted sharply to the side, feeling the rush of air as the creature's massive form sailed past him. A claw missed him by inches, carving a violent trench where he'd stood.

He hit the ground in a roll, came up crouched, already scanning.

The cramped cages from his nightmares flashed through his mind—the helplessness, the fear. Not again. Never again.

Mai locked eyes with Iruminai. With a nod, they flanked the beast as it recovered.

"We'll keep it busy!" Mai shouted to Deru. "Everyone regroup and coordinate!"

Iruminai drew his father's sword, the blade catching what little light remained. The Veil Hound's head snapped toward him, tendrils writhing in anticipation.

"I don't do fetch. Try someone else," Iruminai taunted sarcastically, slashing at a tendril that whipped toward his face. The blade passed through with minimal resistance.

Mai circled behind, striking at the beast's outer thigh. His blows barely registered, but each attack diverted the Hound's attention, buying precious seconds for the adventurers to reorganize.

Iruminai took another stab at the creature, darkness filling the injury almost immediately. "Our attacks aren't doing anything!" Iruminai called out to the others, evading another whipping tendril.

Mai's thoughts tumbled frantically. He observed how their every attack regenerated. What can it be? There has to be something. He recalled Kael's earlier confrontation with the creature.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"The mask! Aim for the mask—it's the only section that appeared to damage it!" Mai yelled.

Iruminai nodded, circling to flank the creature from behind.

He lunged, aiming for the creature's mask. The Veil Hound twisted with impossible speed, its jaw unhinging to reveal rows of gleaming teeth. He barely dodged the snapping maw, feeling hot breath against his cheek.

"Almost had it!" he called to Mai, circling for another attempt.

Mai darted in from the opposite side, drawing the beast's attention. The Hound's tendrils lashed out, slamming him backward into a tree. A sharp pain spread across his abdomen.

That should be enough time. Mai thought to himself.

Iruminai charged, sword raised. The beast sensed him coming and whirled. Too late to stop—too committed to defend. The tendril punched through his shoulder, lifting him off the ground. Pain exploded as his father’s sword clattered to the earth.

"IRU!" Mai's scream tore through the clearing.

Blood poured down Iruminai's chest as the Hound flung him against a tree trunk. He crumpled to the ground, vision blurring.