Snow clawed at the sky in thick, sideways sheets, howling through the ravine like a beast that hadn't eaten in weeks. Three figures trudged through the frostbitten trail near Hunter's Haunt, barely visible specks swallowed by the white void. Their movements were slow, deliberate, each breath a cloud of steam.

  Nyra led them, moving with a hunter's confidence carved from years in this cold. Her skin, a deep tan darkened by wind and sun, was etched with faint white tattoos similar to those of the Jotun tribal markings that curved along her shoulders and arms. Short strands of silver hair, just brushing her shoulders, spilled from beneath her fur-lined hood, windswept and stark against her complexion. Crimson eyes burned beneath that hood, sharp and focused. Her armor was mismatched but built for movement. Bracers wrapped around her forearms, thick leather straps coiled around her legs, and hardened plating covered her shins and boots. Across her torso, a single leather strap crossed over her chest, revealing her sculpted midsection and flat chest, her muscles flexing with each step. Her thighs powered through snow like pistons, each movement deliberate, efficient. She looked less like a soldier and more like a weapon tempered by hardship.

  Beside her, Luken kept a few paces back, his breath shallow and quick. He was lean, not built for endurance, but there was a wiry focus to the way he moved. His robes, dark with subtle runic stitching that barely caught the light, hung from his frame like an afterthought, as if their purpose was formality, not function. His black hair was short but messy, wind-tousled and unkempt, and his brown eyes scanned the path ahead with constant caution. There was a tension in his shoulders. Not fear exactly, but wariness, like someone used to danger coming in forms he couldn't punch. A mage, through and through. More mind than muscle, more calculation than chaos.

  Trailing just behind, Valen walked with a relaxed gait that belied the precision of his movements. He was lean but solid, every muscle shaped by years of fast kills and faster escapes. His sun-blonde hair, longer than either of the others, curled slightly beneath a snow-dusted hood, and his ice-blue eyes flicked from shadow to shadow with calculating ease. A thin scar crossed the bridge of his nose. Faint but impossible to miss. An old wound that gave his otherwise sharp features a dangerous edge. Valen didn't carry himself like a soldier or a mage. He moved like a predator who'd learned to smile.

  Wind screamed between the peaks, tearing at their cloaks, but it couldn't drown out the rising argument.

  "Get down!" Luken shouted, not in panic but with trained urgency. A burst of flame erupted from his staff, carving through the blizzard to strike a Frost Salamander that had begun to scale the ridge above them. His robes, too thin for this place, whipped wildly in the gale, the polished gems on his staff catching flashes of firelight.

  He gritted his teeth as another Salamander crested the slope. A second fireball flew, melting snow in its wake. Luken's breath hitched as he fought to keep focus in the bitter cold.

  "LET'S BRING THESE FREAKS DOWN!" Nyra's voice boomed over the storm. She was already charging, scars on her face catching the flickering light as she ducked low and swung her axe. The Salamander shrieked, its leg severed in a flash of crimson. Blood hissed into the snow.

  She didn't even blink. "Stop crying, bitch," she muttered, more to herself than anyone.

  Valen, quieter than the others, moved like water. Graceful, precise. He slid under the beast's snapping jaws, blade slicing a long arc through its gut. The creature spasmed, collapsed. Valen rose without fanfare.

  "Disgusting," he said under his breath.

  They stood still for a moment, the only sound the wind and the fading twitch of dead flesh. Then Luken collapsed onto a half-buried log, shoulders heaving. His face was flushed, sweat freezing on his skin.

  "The Haunt's nothing like back home..."

  Valen sheathed his blade with a sigh. "Is this guy really worth it?"

  Nyra didn't hesitate. "He took down a hundred men. Barehanded. And lived."

  "You saw that yourself?" Valen asked, eyebrow raised.

  Nyra crossed her arms. "Yes, and he's a monster tamer. Knows the Demon's lands. He's not just some brute. He's a Nephilim."

  Luken squinted. "I thought he was a Jotun."

  "Same thing? Not really. I don't know, it's complicated."

  Valen smirked. "Sounds like you barely remember him."

  "It's been years," Nyra snapped. "But I remember enough. He raised me, alright? Thal took me in when I had no one. I lived here for most of my life."

  That silenced them for a moment.

  Luken cleared his throat. "Raised you? And you left?"

  "I had to. Things... changed. But this place. It's still home."

  Valen, unbothered as always, shrugged. "I'm just here to get paid. Let's find the giant."

  The climb through the gorge was slow. Snowdrift didn't reveal itself all at once. It emerged from the storm in fragments. A rooftop buried in white, smoke curling from chimneys, the faint sound of hammering.

  Jotun walked the paths like ghosts. Tall, silent, etched with ritual tattoos. They watched the trio with idle curiosity. Luken and Valen froze as the full scale of the town settled in.

  "They're... enormous," Luken whispered.

  Valen nodded slowly. "Yeah. Seeing it's different."

  Nyra strode ahead, waving to one of the giants. Her posture shifted slightly. Less battle-hardened, more open, like a daughter returning home. The giant had a beard to his belt and a voice like a landslide.

  "Oak! You still smell like boiled roots and ale."

  The Jotun turned, eyes blinking through snow. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Nyreen? By the frost... you've grown. And louder."

  She grinned wide, that old teasing light in her crimson eyes. "Only a head shorter than you now. I should've brought a stool so I could finally punch you square in the jaw. Is Thal here?"

  Oak snorted, clearly amused. "Gone hunting. Still stubborn. Still quiet. But he'll be glad to see you. Neo's at the cabin."

  Nyra's grin faded, and for a second, her eyes lingered on Oak. There was more she wanted to say. Questions she wanted to ask, maybe even share a laugh like old times. But the moment passed. Her fingers twitched slightly at her side, restless. "Neo...?"

  He nodded. She gave a small nod back, lips pressed thin like she was holding something in. Then she turned away quickly, the familiar weight of unspoken things anchoring her stride. "We'll catch up."

  Valen stepped forward slightly, offering a casual half-salute. "Nice to meet you, Oak."

  Luken nodded, though he kept his eyes low. "Thanks for the help."

  Oak's gaze lingered on them both. His tone shifted. Still friendly but with an edge of something older, deeper. "Thal doesn't take kindly to trouble. Just be mindful how you speak and what you assume."

  Valen raised a brow but said nothing.

  Luken swallowed. "Understood."

  Oak gave them a final look, then turned back toward the village, disappearing behind a veil of falling snow.

  "Show Thal respect," Oak called after them. "He's been here longer than I have."

  They passed through the town in silence, the towering homes and quiet stares pressing down on them. Snowdrift hadn't changed much since Nyra last saw it. Towering longhouses carved from dark timber leaned against one another like ancient sentinels, their steep roofs layered in thick blankets of snow. Braziers burned low at the corners of intersections, filling the air with the scent of pine pitch and cooked meat. Children, wrapped in furs, watched the trio from doorways, while older Jotun sharpened weapons or repaired tools in grim silence. Despite the heavy atmosphere, there was a rhythm to life here. Steady, cold, and strong.

  Nyra slowed her pace slightly, walking between her companions as they passed under a wooden arch etched with Jotun runes. "Before we reach Neo's place, you need to know something," she said quietly, her voice dropping just enough to catch their full attention.

  Luken frowned. "What is it?"

  She glanced over her shoulder, then back ahead. "Neo... he's Kruul. Specifically, a Kruu'voth."

  Luken stiffened. "You brought us into a Kruul village?"

  "No. Snowdrift isn't a Kruul village. Never was. It's Jotun land. But Thal. He raised Neo here. Just like he raised me. And before you go spouting any of that 'I've heard stories' crap. He's different."

  "They're never different," Luken muttered. "You know what they did in Black Hollow."

  Nyra stopped and faced him directly. "Neo didn't do shit in Black Hollow, Luken. He wasn't there. He's not one of them, and you know it. You've heard stories. But so has everyone. That doesn't make them true, and it sure as hell doesn't make you right."

  Valen raised a brow. "So… this Neo's the good kind of monster?"

  "He's not a monster," Nyra snapped, her voice rougher now, almost protective. "He's my friend. Blaming him for what others did is like blaming the sky for thunder. He's saved more lives than either of you could count."

  Luken didn't reply, but his jaw clenched. Valen, sensing the tension, held up a hand. "Alright, alright. Just lead the way, Nyra."

  She nodded and kept walking.

  Valen broke the silence. "So… Neo. Boyfriend?"

  "Old friend," Nyra said, brushing hair from her face. "Shut up."

  "Sounds like you're disappointed."

  "Valen," Luken warned.

  They reached a lone cabin nestled in the trees. The sound of chopping had stopped. The door creaked open.

  A figure emerged. Tall, broad-shouldered, his silhouette almost blending with the shadows pouring from the trees. For a heartbeat, he didn't speak. His stance was tense, rigid, as if ready to strike or flee. His horns spiralled upward like carved obsidian, jagged and asymmetrical, as though grown by something not entirely of this world. His skin bore a faint sheen like polished stone dusted with frost. Black sclera framed irises that pulsed violet, their glow faint but steady, like coals that never cooled. A sleek, whip-like tail slid behind him, moving independently, curling as if tasting the air.

  He looked human, at first. But only from a distance. Up close, everything was wrong in subtle, primal ways. His movements were too smooth, too quiet, like he didn't disturb the world around him. His presence didn't feel like someone standing in a doorway. It felt like something waiting inside a cave.

  Neo. Kruu'voth. Not human. Not pretending to be.

  His voice came out low and guarded, like a blade held behind the back. "Who are you?"

  He stared for a heartbeat longer, eyes flicking briefly to the two behind her. The tension didn't vanish entirely, but it faded bit by bit as Nyra stepped forward.

  "Neo... it's me," she said, and for the first time in days, her voice softened. Not with weakness, but with familiarity. There was a flicker of something warmer behind her crimson eyes, like a fire rekindled in winter. The way she looked at him wasn't with caution or fear. It was with recognition, and something just shy of a smile.

  Neo's gaze lingered on her. "Didn't think you'd ever drag your sorry boots back here."

  Nyra smirked. "And I didn't think you'd still be here freezing your horns off."

  He gave the faintest shrug. "Someone had to keep the place from collapsing."

  She stepped closer, voice quieter. "And someone had to remind you how to smile."

  Neo's lip twitched. Just enough to hint he might.

  His posture eased. A faint exhale left him, not relief exactly but something adjacent. The hardness in his eyes faded just enough to reveal something rare. Trust. He didn't smile, but the lines at the corners of his mouth softened, and his body no longer looked ready to strike.

  "Nyra," he said quietly. "You're early. Come in."

  Inside was warm, almost deceptively so compared to the blizzard outside. Firelight danced across thick pelts draped over massive furniture. Benches, stools, and a table. All clearly made for someone far larger than any of them. The ceiling stretched higher than a hall back in the capital, and the walls were lined with hunting trophies, ancient blades, and hanging charms carved from horn and bone. Everything had weight. Age. Purpose. Despite the raw size, the space gave off a strange sense of comfort. As if it had been lived in, not just built.

  Still, Luken and Valen hovered near the entrance like they weren't sure if they were allowed to sit or speak. Luken's gaze flicked from the oversized chairs to the huge firepit sunken into the floor. "Why is everything so... big?"

  Valen muttered under his breath, "Feels like we walked into a troll's den."

  Nyra just shook her head, clearly at home. "You're guests. Try not to act like children."

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  Neo's eyes swept them. "You trust them?"

  "They're with me."

  He nodded slowly. "Then they're fine."

  Nyra looked around the cabin, noting the absence of the massive presence that should have filled the room. "Where's Thal?"

  "On his yearly hunt," Neo said, stirring the fire. "He only eats what he kills himself. One hunt, one beast. It's enough."

  Valen leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of him. "Yearly hunt? What do you mean, like he just hunts once a year? That seems insufficient."

  Neo leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Neither is Thal."

  Luken remained silent, but his eyes stayed on Neo, studying him with unease. Eventually, he spoke.

  "You're... Kruu'voth, right?"

  Neo nodded once, slowly.

  Luken's tone turned cold. "I've heard stories. About your kind."

  Neo didn't react. "I've heard stories about yours too."

  The silence thickened. Neo's eyes stayed locked with Luken's, both unmoving. Neither blinking, neither backing down. The fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows across their faces.

  Then, without looking, Nyra reached out and gave Luken a light slap to the back of the head.

  "Enough," she muttered. "You're not going to win a staring contest with someone who doesn't blink."

  Valen raised a brow at Luken. "You got a problem?"

  "No," Luken lied. "Not yet."

  Nyra stepped between them. "Enough. He's not like the others. He saved my life more than once. I wouldn't be here without him."

  Neo looked at her but said nothing. The fire cracked, and the weight in the room hung unspoken.

  Neo pushed off the wall, moving toward the fire with a glide that was too quiet for someone his size. He stirred the logs once, sending a few embers spiralling upward, then glanced at Nyra again.

  "You really brought them all this way... just to find Thal?"

  Nyra nodded, settling onto a wide bench without hesitation. "It's more than that. We need his help."

  Neo's brow lowered slightly. "That's dangerous."

  Before Nyra could respond, Neo cut in with a coy smile. "Well, it would be. But he only eats once a year. So no, not insufficient, as you say."

  Valen blinked, momentarily unsure if that was a joke or a threat.

  Nyra jabbed him in the side with her elbow, hard enough to make him grunt. "Watch it."

  As the fire crackled warmly, the group settled into an uneasy silence, save for the faint sound of the wind brushing against the cabin walls. Neo's tail curled lazily around the leg of his chair as his glowing eyes flicked between the group.

  "So," Neo began, his calm voice breaking the stillness, "what have you been up to, Nyra? Eight years is a long time."

  Nyra smiled faintly, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Oh, you know. Chopping things down. Keeping these two from killing themselves... or each other."

  She gestured to Luken and Valen but her tone softened when she added, "I've missed this place. And you, honestly."

  Neo's lip twitched into the faintest smile, though his gaze didn't quite meet hers. "You haven't changed much. Still getting yourself into trouble, I bet."

  Nyra chuckled, brushing a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear. "You could say that. But it's the kind of trouble worth having."

  Valen, already smirking, leaned forward. "So, Neo. How's it feel having Nyra chase you down after all these years?"

  Nyra's eyes widened. "Valen!"

  Neo tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes lingering on her. "Chasing me? That's... optimistic. I think you're imagining things."

  "Just an old friend, huh?" Valen said, still grinning.

  "Valen, shut up," Nyra hissed, her cheeks flushed.

  Neo leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice still calm. "Poking at people you barely know. That's a dangerous habit."

  Valen shrugged. "Danger keeps things interesting."

  Luken, sitting stiffly near the edge of his seat, finally spoke. "So, Neo. What exactly makes you trustworthy? You say you're different from the rest of your kind. But why should we believe that?"

  The warmth in the room seemed to waver. Neo's glowing gaze locked onto Luken but his expression didn't change. "Because Nyra trusts me. And if that's not enough for you, you're welcome to leave."

  The fire snapped. Neo's tail curled tighter around the leg of his chair, his gaze unreadable. No one said anything for a long time.

  Nyra leaned back, rubbing her palms together near the flame. "Is he still the same?"

  Neo didn't look at her. "You know better than to ask that."

  A long moment passed and a quiet tension returned, thicker than before. Something was coming.

  Neo's tail stilled, the tip hovering just above the floorboards. Outside, the wind hit the cabin wall with a sound like a giant's fist, making the timber groan. Neo's violet eyes drifted toward the door, as if he could see through the thick pine to the storm beyond. "He should be back by now," he murmured, almost to himself. "The hunt never takes him this long unless."

  Three heavy treads crunched in the snow outside. Boots that sounded like stone grinding against stone.

  Then the door groaned. Snow blew in around a towering silhouette, but Thal didn't fill the frame alone. He had to duck to enter. Standing ten feet tall. And behind him, two hulking shadows followed. The first, Tar, had to turn sideways to squeeze through, his horns scraping furrows into the wood. He was slightly taller than Thal, pushing nearly eleven feet, his shoulders broader in a different way. Leaner but longer of limb. His fur was black as coal dust, matted with snow, and he moved with a silence that seemed to swallow sound.

  Behind him came Tor, slightly smaller than Thal but no less imposing. Perhaps nine feet to Thal's ten. Where Tar was midnight, Tor was rust and copper, her fur thick and well-groomed, her horns curving gracefully upward rather than outward. But it was her eyes that caught the light. Large, brown, and unsettlingly intelligent, watching the room with a predator's assessment.

  Thal stepped aside, letting the twins enter fully. Boots heavy as stone thudded onto the wooden floor, scattering frost. Tor's nostrils flared, scenting the air, while Tar remained perfectly still, his gaze locking onto Valen and Luken with an intensity that made both men freeze.

  Tor's large brown eyes softened, and she crouched slightly to meet Nyra's embrace, her thick arms wrapping gently around the much smaller woman. Tar, though expressionless as always, let out a deep huff that sounded almost like a chuckle. When Nyra turned to hug him, she barely reached his chest but he placed a massive hand on her back, a subtle gesture of affection.

  "It's been so long!" Nyra said, looking up at them with a grin. "I've missed you two!"

  Tor tilted her head slightly, her large hand gesturing in quick signs to Nyra, who smiled and nodded.

  "Oh, right!" Nyra turned back to the group. "These are my companions. Valen and Luken. Don't mind them. They're just not used to... well, you."

  Valen managed a weak wave, his usual bravado utterly absent. "Uh... hi."

  Luken didn't even try to speak, simply nodding stiffly as he avoided eye contact with Tar, who loomed over him like a mountain.

  Neo, on the other hand, remained unfazed. Leaning casually against the wall, his glowing eyes flicked toward Thal. "Welcome back," he said calmly. "Good hunt?"

  Thal's deep, rumbling voice filled the room as he stepped forward, his presence even more commanding up close. "Good enough," he said simply, his tone as unyielding as his physique. He dropped a large sack onto the floor with a heavy thud, the scent of blood wafting from it.

  Tor and Tar exchanged a look. Tor pointing toward the sack, Tar giving a single nod. They moved to unpack it, pulling out several massive carcasses of creatures Valen and Luken didn't even recognize.

  Nyra turned back to Thal, her grin unwavering. "Thal, it's so good to see you again! You're as big as ever."

  Thal let out a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating through the room. "And you're as talkative as ever, little Nyra." He patted her on the head with a hand that could easily engulf it. "It's been a while."

  And for a moment, the cabin felt impossibly full. Heat, tension, history, and the quiet hum of something gathering.

  Nyra glanced from the fire to Thal. "I didn't come all this way for a reunion, though."

  Thal raised a thick brow, his gaze shifting to Neo and then to the uneasy Luken and Valen. "Help with what?"

  Nyra stepped forward, but Thal held up one massive hand. Not to stop her, but to pause the conversation. He moved toward the fire, extending his hands toward the flames, massive fingers spreading to absorb the heat. Steam rose from his armor as the snow melted, dripping onto the floorboards. Tor dragged the carcasses to the corner, her tail swaying once. A private greeting to Nyra as she passed. But Tar remained near the wall, watching Luken and Valen with unblinking eyes. When Luken tried to shift closer to the fire, Tar shifted slightly, blocking the path with his bulk. Not attacking, just asserting. Claiming space. Luken froze, then slowly chose a different spot, closer to the wall. Tar's shoulders relaxed a fraction.

  The fire crackled. The wind screamed outside. Thal flexed his fingers, cracking the knuckles one by one. Pop, pop, pop. Testing the readiness of his bare hands. He caught Nyra watching and gave her a barely perceptible nod. I'm ready. Are you?

  The silence itself was the question.

  "We need your help," Nyra said, her voice dropping into the serious cadence she used when the fighting was done and the planning began. "It's the Kruul King. He's not just waging war. He's exterminating. His Archons lead the army, and they're burning everything."

  "The Archon of Rot," Luken added, clutching his staff tighter. "We have intel on his location. He's camped in the Shadowfern, marshalling forces for the next push."

  Thal's golden eyes narrowed. "The Shadowfern is deep in Kruul territory. You want to go into the heart of their lands?"

  "We want to cut the head off the snake," Valen said, his usual smirk absent. "Kill the Archon of Rot, then the King and his other generals. Without the Archons, the army scatters."

  "And you think you can kill an Archon?" Neo asked quietly. His tail had gone still.

  "We can't do it without a guide," Nyra admitted, looking up at Thal. "We need someone who knows the Shadowfern, who knows how the Kruul think, how they move. We need you to get us there alive, Thal. Then we'll handle the killing."

  Thal didn't speak. He looked at the twins. Tor signed something with her thick fingers. Quick, sharp gestures. Tar grunted once in response.

  "The Shadowfern is poisoned ground," Thal rumbled finally. "The rot isn't just his name. It's real. The land itself decays there."

  "Which is why we need you," Nyra pressed. "You know the old paths. You know where the ground is solid and where it'll swallow us whole."

  Thal's expression turned serious, his piercing gaze locking onto her. "If you've come all this way, I'll hear you out."

  The gravity of the words hung in the air. Tor and Tar dragged the massive carcasses to the corner, their movements practiced and efficient, the scrape of bone on wood filling the silence. Valen watched them from near the bench, head tilted, the tension of the moment slowly giving way to simple, overwhelmed curiosity.

  "Okay," he said, scratching his head as he watched Tor separate a haunch of meat with her bare hands. "But what about their names? Tor and Tar? Doesn't exactly scream mystical beast to me."

  Nyra rolled her eyes, relaxing slightly now that the hardest ask was over. She leaned against the table edge. "Simple names? Yeah, that's just how Nephilim do things. They're not into flashy names."

  "Well," she continued with a shrug, "I've noticed that Nephilim guys' names usually have an 'a' but no 'o,' and girls' names are the opposite. You know, like Thal, Tar, Tor. Just a pattern I picked up."

  "You've met more than one Nephilim?" Luken asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to do the mental math on her pattern.

  Nyra hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Thal, who remained silent by the fire. "Yeah, well... Thal had talked about another one. Years ago. Her name being Thor."

  Valen's brow furrowed. "Thor? That's... a heavy name."

  "Like a female Nephilim who could supposedly crack mountains with her fists," Nyra continued. "She has an 'o' in her name, see? Fits the pattern. Thal knew her... before. He doesn't talk about her much."

  The way she said before suggested histories best left buried. Thal's hands stilled over the fire for a fraction of a second. So slight she might have imagined it. Then resumed their methodical warming.

  Luken's curiosity piqued. "So, Thal raised them?"

  "Of course he raised them," Nyra said, giving him a sideways look. "Who else would've named them? Did you forget? Thal's a monster tamer. They've been with him as long as I've known him. And they were here when I was a girl. They helped raise me too."

  Valen cocked an eyebrow, glancing toward Neo, who stood near the fire. "Okay, but what about Neo? He's got an 'o' in his name, and he's a guy. That breaks your little theory, doesn't he?"

  Nyra rolled her eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "I don't know, Valen. Why don't you ask him yourself?" She tilted her head toward Neo. His glowing purple eyes flicked over to the trio.

  Valen and Luken froze. Neo's calm demeanour didn't change, but the eerie glow of his eyes and the faint curl of his tail were enough to send a shiver down their spines.

  Valen cleared his throat, forcing a laugh. "You know what? I think I'll pass on that one."

  "Yeah," Luken muttered, gripping his staff a little tighter. "Some mysteries are better left unsolved."

  Nyra stifled a laugh, but the humour faded as Valen pushed off from the bench. He moved to the door, arms crossed, his impatience returning now that the ice was broken and the reality of their alliance settled in.

  "We know where the Archon is," Valen said, his back to the door. "We have the element of surprise. We should move now. Tonight. Cover as much ground as we can before dawn."

  Luken nodded, adjusting his grip on his staff. "He's right. The longer we wait, the more time Rot has to fortify his position. Every hour costs lives."

  "Move now?" Neo still leaned against the wall, but his violet eyes seemed to glow brighter. "You want to walk into the night? In this?"

  "Why not?" Valen challenged. "We've got Thal. We've got." He gestured at Tor and Tar. "Muscle. We can handle a walk in the dark."

  Neo tilted his head. "Those Frost Salamanders you fought on the way here? They're hunting pack beasts. Scouts. At night, the prides move. Fifty, sixty of them, hunting the ravines. They can smell body heat through snow, and they hunt the paths you'll need to take."

  Valen's jaw tightened. "We can fight."

  "You can't see," Nyra cut in. She wasn't shouting, but her voice carried the weight of someone who knew the terrain intimately. "I lived here, Valen. I hunted these paths. At night, the blizzard becomes a whiteout. You can't see your hand in front of your face. The Salamanders can see heat. You'd be dead before you heard them coming."

  She stepped closer to him, her crimson eyes earnest. "I know you want to hurry. I know you want to stop the killing. But dying in a ravine helps no one. We leave at dawn, when we can see the paths and they can't ambush us as easily."

  Valen looked at Luken, who slowly nodded, his face pale. "Fine," Valen muttered, though his fists remained clenched. "Dawn. But we move fast."

  Thal, who had been watching the exchange with his arms crossed, gave a single grunt of approval. "Smart. Foolish men make good fertilizer."

  As the night deepened, the fire burned down to embers, casting the cabin in a ruddy, pulsing glow. Neo moved quietly, clearing the remnants of the meal, while Thal sat against the wall, methodically checking the leather straps of his armor. Pulling at buckles, testing the flexibility of the fur lining, running his thumb over the iron plates sewn into the shoulders. His hands were large enough to crush stone, but they worked with surprising precision, ensuring nothing would chafe or break when the fighting started. Thal fought unarmed. His body was the weapon, and it had to be maintained.

  Tor didn't rush to Nyra. She stood by the fire, watching, her large hands hanging at her sides. Nyra approached her slowly, the way one approaches a spooked horse.

  "Still guarding the door?" Nyra asked softly.

  Tor's nostrils flared. She reached toward Nyra. Not with a hug, but with her massive hand, rough and warm, cupping Nyra's shoulder. Her thumb brushed the white tattoos there, tracing the lines of the Jotun markings. Eight years apart, but the Minotaur remembered the girl she'd helped raise. Tor squeezed, gently for her, though it still made Nyra's knees buckle slightly. Then she pulled Nyra closer, into the shelter of her copper-furred bulk.

  "You remember," Nyra whispered.

  Tor huffed, a sound like wind through a canyon, and finally. Finally. She crouched, bringing her broad face level with Nyra's. Their foreheads touched, a brief press of warmth against the cold world outside.

  Tar, meanwhile, hadn't moved from his position by the wall. He watched Luken and Valen with unblinking eyes. When Luken tried to sit on a bench near the fire, Tar shifted slightly, blocking the path with his bulk. Not attacking, just asserting. Claiming space. Protecting the herd.

  Luken froze. He looked at the floor, then at Tar, then slowly chose a different spot, closer to the wall. Tar didn't smile. His bovine face couldn't. But his shoulders relaxed a fraction.

  While Thal sorted through his gear at the far end of the cabin and Luken and Valen argued in low voices about watch rotations, Neo moved toward the door. "Going to check the wind," he murmured, though no one had asked.

  Nyra watched him slip out into the dark. She waited a count of ten, then pulled her hood up. "I'm getting air," she said to no one in particular, and stepped outside before Thal could grunt an objection.

  The cold hit like a wall. Neo stood a few paces from the door, his breath clouding in the dark, his violet eyes reflecting the starlight on snow. He didn't turn.

  "You shouldn't be out here," he said.

  "Neither should you."

  He was quiet for a long moment. The wind howled between the peaks, tearing at their cloaks.

  "I dream about you sometimes," he said finally. Not looking at her. "When you're gone. You're always walking into snow, and I can't follow."

  Nyra's hands stilled at her sides. She didn't look at him. Couldn't, suddenly. "Why don't you ever say things like that when the sun's up?"

  "Because you're not real when the sun's up. You're a story Thal tells. A ghost that used to live here." He paused. His tail curled against his legs, then uncurled. "Tonight you're warm. I don't want to waste it on daylight logic."

  "Neo..."

  "Don't." He turned then, just enough for her to see the faint glow of his eyes. "Just... don't make it a goodbye yet. That's all I ask."

  She nodded, throat tight, and stepped closer to him in the dark. They stood in silence, watching the snow fall.

  "Go inside," Neo said softly. "You'll freeze."

  "Come with me."

  "Not yet. Someone has to watch."

  Nyra lingered a moment longer, then turned and went back inside, the warmth of the cabin hitting her face like a slap. Tor was fully asleep now, her breathing slow and deep. Tar's eyes had drifted closed.

  Thal looked up from his gear, his golden eyes flicking toward the door, then to Nyra. He said nothing, but his jaw tightened.

  A few minutes later, the door opened again. Thal stepped outside to check the perimeter. He found Neo standing where Nyra had left him, tail curled against the snow. They didn't speak. They simply stood together in the dark, watching for threats, two monsters guarding the humans inside.

  Through the frosted glass, Nyra watched their silhouettes. Thal with his arms crossed, Neo with his tail curling against his legs. Until her eyes grew heavy and she slept.

  Behind her, Tor snorted in her sleep and pressed closer, her massive form radiating heat.

  Nyra pulled her hood up, drew her knees to her chest, and let the exhaustion take her. But her last thought wasn't of the Archon of Rot, or the Kruul King, or the war waiting in the Shadowfern.

  It was Neo's voice, barely audible. You're always walking into snow, and I can't follow.