They left just after nightfall.
The moon hung high, veiled behind shifting clouds, its pale light filtering weakly through the canopy as Nathan and Theo made their way west along a barely visible trail.
Theo led with quiet confidence, one hand resting near his sword hilt, the other thumbing the edge of a small enchanted compass. Nathan followed close, senses taut. He kept his energy locked down tight, not even letting a thread of Nova leak.
They were miles from the last patrol route by the time the trees thinned.
"Looks abandoned," Theo murmured.
Nathan scanned the area. "It can't be."
Theo followed his gaze.
Tracks. Deep. Wide. And fresh.
They moved cautiously across the uneven ground. At one point, Theo stumbled on a shattered cart, its wooden frame split clean down the middle, like something massive had stepped through it.
Nathan crouched beside it and ran a hand along the edge. "Clean break. No burn. No claw marks. Whatever did this… crushed it. It's weight alone was enough."
Theo knelt beside him. "You thinking golem?"
"Golems don't leave three-toed prints."
He pointed to one near the rubble—impossibly deep, the earth compacted into near stone.
Theo exhaled sharply. "Alright. That rules out the fun options."
They moved deeper into the ruins. Near the main shaft entrance, Elias's map proved true—a narrow tunnel, half-collapsed, with fresh drag marks leading inside.
They slipped inside.
The tunnel was tighter than expected, and colder. A stale, mineral tang filled the air. Further in, veins of strange green ore shimmered faintly in the walls. Nathan reached out instinctively, but stopped before touching it.
"Threadstone," Theo whispered.
Nathan's heart skipped.
"It's leaking," Theo added. "Raw. Unstable."
That explained the shimmer. That explained the beast.
Something—maybe the collapse, maybe something older—had exposed raw threadstone veins beneath the ridge. If the creature had followed it...
No wonder it had migrated.
"This place is poisoned," Nathan said quietly. "We need to mark it. Get out."
Theo nodded. "Not arguing—"
A tremor rolled through the ground.
Both of them froze.
Not like before. This was slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Nathan reached slowly toward his belt where the flare crystal hung.
The tremor stopped.
Silence stretched.
Then a low scraping sound echoed down the tunnel—stone grinding on stone. Closer.
Nathan didn't wait. "Go."
They ran.
Back through the shaft, boots skidding against gravel, dodging collapsed beams and twisted rails. Behind them, the sound followed—dragging, thudding, then a short, sharp exhale like air forced through a narrow throat.
They broke into the open night, breath fogging.
Theo turned back toward the shaft, half-expecting the beast to burst through after them.
But it didn't.
Nothing emerged.
"Why stop?" Theo asked.
Nathan didn't answer right away. He stared at the tunnel mouth.
It wasn't hunting anymore. It was guarding.
Theo looked at him. "It's not just roaming, is it?"
"No," Nathan said slowly. "It's nesting."
Theo swore under his breath.
Nathan gripped the flare crystal tightly in his palm, but didn't light it yet.
They needed confirmation. Evidence.
They were 100 percent sure.
He forced his voice steady. "Let's get back."
Back in Aramore, well after midnight, the city was quiet. Even the Order's outpost had dimmed its lights. Only the orb room still glowed—its light low, pulsing red and silver.
Sirah stood alone, reading over a fresh report when they returned.
She looked up sharply as the door creaked open. "Well?"
Nathan didn't speak. He walked to the table, pulled a rough stone from his pouch, and set it down.
It glowed faintly green.
Raw threadstone.
Sirah's eyes narrowed.
"There's a nest," Nathan said. "And it's sitting on the cause."
Theo added, "Might be more than one. The place is unstable."
Sirah didn't speak for a long moment.
Then she turned to the orb and tapped it once. Maps flickered. Notices shifted. A silent call went out.
And then Sirah spoke.
"No one's to go near the ridge until we know how far this spreads. If it's Threadstone drawing them in…" she glanced at Nathan, "...we're looking at a bigger problem than one displaced beast."
Nathan didn't respond. He was still staring at the stone.
It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
The morning after the debrief brought with it a chilled wind and a sky covered in low, gray clouds. Nathan stood on the balcony outside his quarters, arms resting on the cold stone railing as the city of Aramore stretched quietly below.
Theo found him there, carrying two mugs of steaming tea. He handed one over without a word and leaned on the rail beside him.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Then, Theo finally muttered, "You ever get the feeling something big is about to break, and everyone's pretending it isn't?"
Nathan gave a short nod. "That shimmer on the orb yesterday… that wasn't normal."
"Nope."
They sipped their tea in silence. Somewhere in the courtyard below, trainees sparred with dulled blades. The clang of metal was familiar, even comforting. But Nathan's thoughts stayed on that ridge, on the red-eyed beast that had nearly crushed them both.
A beast that should not have been there.
If that thing had wandered so far, how many more like it might be out there? How many were already walking the edges of the known world?
Later that morning, Sirah called them into a prep room deep again.
Beside her stood a new face—an older man, thick white beard and long gray robes embroidered with fine blue stitching. He held himself like a man used to commanding attention.
"This is Archivist Merrow," Sirah said. "He's the reason we know what you saw wasn't just a rogue beast."
Merrow gave Nathan and Theo a nod. "I've studied the patterns of magical migrations for decades. What you described matches something I never thought I'd see again. A Surnok."
Theo blinked. "Come again?"
"An ancient predator," Merrow said, voice low. "Extinct, or so we thought. They were once considered apex hunters—territorial, precise, powerful enough to scatter entire warbands. The red eyes, the tremor trails, the clawprint spacing—all match historical records from the early Order. They were the ones who hunted down the Varanthas to extinction. "
Sirah unrolled a second map. This one had fewer roads, fewer names. Wildlands. Forests. Mountains. Unsettled places beyond the outer patrols.
"We've noticed similar tremors near the Dunwald Range," she said. "If more Surnoks are migrating... we need to know what's driving them out."
Nathan's eyes caught a shaded zone near the edge of the map. No roads. No landmarks. Just a single marking scrawled in old ink: Veilwood Scar.
Sirah didn't point to it. She didn't have to.
That was where they were going next.
But for now, the mission was still being planned. Scouts were being organized. Supplies gathered.
Nathan and Theo were dismissed with orders to rest again, but neither of them truly did.
Later that night, Nathan lay on his cot staring at the ceiling. One hand rested on the silver-threaded emblem at his belt.
He didn't know what the Veilwood Scar was. Or why the Surnok had come so far.
But if more of them were moving… if beasts that were supposed to be legend had returned…
Then something worse was coming behind them.
He just hoped they weren't already too late.