Sir Veylan arrived the moment he heard Ashren had awakened.

He didn't knock. The door opened quietly, but with urgency.

Ashren was already sitting up, bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs and shoulder. Exhaustion still clung to his face, but his eyes were alert.

“You shouldn't be moving yet,” Veylan said. Relief flickered briefly across his face before discipline returned.

Ashren met his gaze.

“I need to find them.”

Veylan sighed and folded his arms.

“The Night Hunters,” he said. “I assumed as much.”

“They took her.” There was no anger in Ashren's voice, no panic. Only certainty. “I need to know where they went.”

Veylan studied him for a long moment. Other guards lingered near the doorway, watchful and curious.

“Not now,” he said quietly. “You've just woken from two days of unconsciousness. Rest. We'll talk later.”

Ashren clenched his jaw but didn't argue.

Veylan gestured toward the guards.

“Give him some space.”

The room slowly emptied.

Night fell over Ardent Cross.

As dusk deepened, the protective barrier shimmered into place around the city, an invisible shell that dulled the sounds of the wild beyond the walls. Lanterns glowed along the streets, their light faintly reflected in the barrier like stars caught in glass.

Ashren sat alone near an open window, gazing upward.

The sky was clear tonight. Stars scattered endlessly across the darkness.

Somewhere out there…

“Elara,” he whispered.

He imagined her looking at the same sky.

Or perhaps she couldn't see it at all.

His fingers curled slowly.

At dawn.

No matter what, at dawn I move.

A presence approached behind him.

“You ever notice,” Sir Veylan said quietly as he stepped beside him, “how the stars feel closer at night?”

Ashren didn't turn.

“Feels like they're watching.”

Veylan smiled faintly.

“Or judging.”

They stood in silence for a while.

Then Veylan spoke again.

“You asked earlier about the Night Hunters' hideout.”

Ashren's breathing stilled.

“I told you I had no idea,” Veylan continued. “That wasn't entirely true.”

Ashren finally turned toward him.

Veylan's expression had become serious, careful.

“I don't have a location,” he said. “But I have a direction.”

Ashren waited.

“They don't call themselves Night Hunters because they enjoy the dark,” Veylan said. “It's because the night is the only time they're allowed to exist.”

Ashren frowned.

“Allowed?”

Veylan looked back toward the stars.

“I've heard stories. Fragments. Whispers passed down through old orders and forgotten records.”

He exhaled slowly.

“I'm not their supporter. I don't excuse what they do. But I know this—the current ruler of Enthoriea despises them.”

Ashren's eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“Because they refuse to kneel.”

Veylan stopped.

“No,” he corrected quietly. “That's not the whole truth.”

Ashren turned fully toward him.

“There is a contract,” Veylan continued. “An old one. Older than the current rulers. Older than most people remember.”

“A contract?”

Veylan nodded.

“Between the Night Hunters and the surrounding human nations.”

He let the words settle before continuing.

“When they first became the Night Hunters, they weren't an army. They weren't conquerors. They were something the human kingdoms feared but couldn't fully destroy.”

“So a deal was made.”

“They would not enter human cities. They would not interact with civilians. They would not show themselves in daylight.”

Ashren's jaw tightened.

“And in return?”

“In return, they were allowed to exist.”

Silence settled between them.

“They were permitted to roam only at night,” Veylan continued. “To live beyond the borders. To hunt the monsters that haunted those lands.”

“And if they broke the contract?”

Veylan's voice dropped.

“Extermination.”

Ashren's expression hardened.

“Not arrest. Not negotiation.”

“Erasure.”

Veylan's gaze remained fixed on the stars.

“Entire regions were cleared in the past for less. And if the current rulers learn that Night Hunters walked openly in Ardent during daylight…”

He didn't finish.

He didn't need to.

Ashren clenched his fists.

“So they're not hunted because they rebel.”

“They're hunted because they exist on borrowed permission.”

A pause passed between them.

“And permission,” Veylan added quietly, “can always be revoked.”

Ashren looked back toward the stars.

“So if their hideout is found…”

Veylan nodded grimly.

“They won't send knights.”

“They won't send soldiers.”

“They'll erase them from the map.”

Dawn broke softly over Ardent Cross.

The protective barrier faded with a gentle ripple, like glass dissolving into air. Morning sounds returned to the city—footsteps, shutters opening, distant voices—but Ashren heard none of them.

He stood at the eastern gate.

Sir Veylan approached quietly, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes went first to Ashren's posture.

Still wounded.

Still standing.

“You shouldn't be here yet,” Veylan said.

Ashren didn't turn.

“They took your horse.”

Veylan paused.

“The one I rode after them,” Ashren said. “I lost control when they scattered. It ran straight into their convoy.”

“And you're going after it?”

“I'm bringing it back.” Ashren's voice was firm. “Along with her.”

Veylan studied him closely.

“That horse knows how to survive,” he said at last. “So do you, apparently.”

Ashren exhaled.

“I need to know where they'd go. Not guesses. Patterns.”

Veylan nodded once.

“The Night Hunters don't travel straight. They never do. They avoid roads during daylight—even forest roads.”

He pointed eastward, not toward a single trail but toward a stretch of distant land.

“Old ravines. Broken highlands. Places maps stopped caring about.”

Ashren memorized the direction.

“Tracks won't help you,” Veylan continued. “Sound will.”

Ashren frowned.

“They move with machines. Engines modified to run quietly. Metal doesn't belong in the wild. You'll hear it before you see it.”

Ashren considered that.

“And if I find them?”

Veylan's expression hardened.

“Then you don't attack blindly.”

Ashren finally turned toward him.

“I won't win head-on.”

“No,” Veylan agreed. “You won't.”

A brief silence passed.

“That doesn't mean you can't enter.”

Ashren understood.

He reached for the reins of the horse waiting beside the gate.

“This time, I'll bring both horses back.”

Veylan gave him a faint, humorless smile.

“Focus on bringing yourself back first.”

Ashren mounted carefully. The horse shifted beneath him, steady and calm.

“One more thing,” Veylan said.

Ashren looked down.

“Try not to travel at night.”

Ashren nodded once.

Then he turned east.

He glanced once at the city behind him.

Then he didn't look back again.

And rode.

Far from Ardent Cross, beyond broken hills and jagged stone, the Night Hunters' encampment stirred.

Hidden among ravines and rock spines, layered beneath camouflage nets and natural cover, it was a place built for vanishing rather than defending.

Lanterns burned low even in daylight.

Men laughed. Crates were opened. Someone was already drinking.

“Leader like ours,” a drunken voice scoffed, “can't even claim a girl without half the world watching.”

Laughter followed.

Bitter.

Sharp.

Another voice answered.

“Careful. He'll hear you.”

“So what?” the first man slurred. “He's strong, sure—but strength without spine is nothing.”

The laughter died.

Silence settled over the camp.

Then came footsteps.

Measured.

Cold.

Ravenn stepped into the open.

The drunk froze.

Ravenn didn't raise his voice.

“Say it again.”

The man's throat tightened.

“I—”

Ravenn drew his blade halfway.

Steel whispered from its sheath.

“Fight me.”

There was no anger in his voice.

No theatrics.

Only certainty.