Dylan stopped for a moment, wiping a dark streak from his cheek with the back of his hand. The warmth of his blood mingled with that of the beast. His fingers trembled only slightly, but his mind vibrated with a painful clarity.

This burning inside him, this essence that always demanded more, growled like a hungry beast he had awakened.

And he knew it—every time he used it, it would take a little more of what he was.

Zirel crouched by the main corpse, using his dagger to pry the anima gem lodged in the monster's throat. The stone, still pulsating, radiated a reddish glow.

"Second rank," he confirmed. "Nothing special. But it should be enough to recharge a sliver of your essence, Dylan."

He handed it to him without comment. Dylan observed it for a moment, then took it between his fingers. The gem vibrated, then slowly cracked, releasing a warm breath that he absorbed with a slow, almost religious inhalation. The fatigue dissipated a little, but the sensation he felt was nothing human—a cold, spiraling thirst that refused to be quenched.

Elisa looked away.

"Every time you do that, you become a little less yourself," she said, her voice muffled.

"Perhaps. But I no longer have the luxury to care."

Julius, who had been observing the scene in silence, spat into the damp earth.

"As long as you stay on the right side of the line, kid, I don't care. But if one day I see anything other than human in your eyes, I'll take you down without hesitation."

Dylan smiled—a brief, weary, but sincere smile.

"I hope you'll still be fast enough that day."

Zirel sheathed his blade.

"The humor's back, that's a good sign. Let's move. This filth always attracts other scavengers."

They resumed their march.

Their steps sank into the cold mud, rhythmical with the breath of the wind through the trees. The tension subsided, but it gave way to another form of unease: that of consciousness.

Every member of the group knew the skirmish was only a prelude. That the human sentinels of Pilaf would be far worse than the nocturnal beasts.

---

The Karthak plain appeared around a rocky outcrop: a desert of dark grasses, strewn with rocks standing like fangs.

In the distance, behind the mist, torches flickered—too regular to be natural.

Pilaf's camp.

Zirel crouched, raising his hand.

"From here on, not a word. The patrols rotate every two hours. We pass between the watchers' paths, to the north. Dylan, you take the lead. Elisa, stay connected. If you sense an energy fluctuation, even the slightest, relay it to Julius."

She nodded, focused.

Dylan took a deep breath. His heart was beating too fast.

The landscape, bathed in a dying light, seemed unreal—as if the world was holding its breath before judgment.

He placed a hand on a nearby rock, cold and dripping with dew.

"This is where it all began," he murmured.

Elisa looked at him. "And perhaps where it will end."

A fleeting smile stretched his lips.

"Not yet."

They plunged into the plain, gradually swallowed by the tall grasses. Their silhouettes blended into the night, erased, dissolved.

And as the wind rose again, bringing with it the salty scent of the coming rain, Dylan felt a shiver run up his left arm—his stigmata, under the skin, vibrating faintly.

Something, over there, in the camp, was calling to him.

And it wasn't Maggie.

Dylan led the way, his movements fluid and silent—a shadow among shadows. The tall, dark grasses of the Karthak plain whispered against their legs, the only sound apart from the low wind. His senses were stretched taut, every nerve ending alive to the slightest shift in the environment. The stigmata on his arm was a persistent, low thrum, a compass needle pulling him inexorably towards the heart of the camp.

They moved like ghosts between the patrol routes Zirel had mapped out. A flicker of torchlight to the left, the muffled tread of boots on damp earth to the right. They froze, melting into the deeper blackness of a rock formation, as a pair of sentries passed within a dozen feet, grumbling about the damp and their captain. Dylan held his breath—not from fear of being seen, but from the sudden, violent impulse to lash out, to feel his essence tear through them. He clenched his jaw. *Not yet.*

Elisa's voice was a feather-light touch in his mind.

*« Two more, fifty paces ahead, stationary. They're bored. Their attention is wandering. »*

Julius, a mountain of patient darkness, received the information with a slight shift in his weight. Zirel gestured with two fingers, pointing to a narrow, eroded gully that cut towards the camp's outer palisade—a weakness he'd scouted days prior.

They descended into the ditch, the cold mud seeping through their clothes. The wooden wall loomed above, twice the height of a man. From up close, they could hear the sounds of the camp: the distant clang of a hammer, a burst of rough laughter, the snort of a horse.

Zirel uncoiled a thin, dark rope with a grapnel hook. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he sent it sailing upwards. It caught on the parapet with a soft *thunk*. He tugged twice, testing the hold.

Dylan went first, climbing hand over hand, his body a taut wire. At the top, he peered over. The walkway was deserted for this section. He swung a leg over and dropped into a crouch, scanning the interior. Barracks, storage sheds, a larger command tent in the distance. And there, on a slight rise, separated from the rest, was a smaller, heavily guarded tent. A prison.

He signaled the all-clear. One by one, the others joined him, Julius landing with a grace that belied his size.

Elisa's eyes were wide, taking in the scene.

*« The energy here is... tangled. Rage. Fear. Something else. Something old. »* Her gaze drifted towards the command tent.

*« Maggie is in the prison tent, »* Dylan thought back, the certainty cold and hard in his gut. *« But that's not what's calling me. »*

The pull was coming from the command tent. A silent, burning melody in his blood. His stigmata blazed with a cold fire.

Zirel pointed towards the prison, then made a series of quick hand signals: *Distraction. Extraction. Retreat the same way.*

Julius nodded, hefting a small, cloth-wrapped bundle from his pack—a makeshift smoke charge. He moved off to the left, towards a stack of hay bales near the stables.

But Dylan didn't move. His eyes remained locked on the command tent.

Elisa touched his arm.

*« Dylan. The plan. Maggie first. »*

"I know," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "But *she* is there. Alka. And she did something unforgivable."

Elisa stared at him, her fingers gripping his arm as if trying to stop a crack from widening.

"Not now, Dylan."

Her voice was not an order, but a plea. A rare tremor vibrated within it.

He blinked slowly, as if pulling himself from a stupor. The fire in his arm diminished, just a little.

"I know."

And he truly did know—the mission, the promise, Maggie. But deep within him, something growled, patient and hungry, a beast lurking in his blood.

Zirel gave the signal. The diversion was about to begin.

Julius crouched behind a wagon, lit the short fuse of the smoke charge, and tossed it with a precise gesture. The muffled explosion sent a thick cloud of grey ash billowing above the camp roofs. Shouts erupted immediately, torches waved, figures ran.

It was time.

Dylan burst from the shadows, followed by Elisa. They slipped between two barracks, moving along a row of barrels and crates. The chaos cleared a path for them. The guards scattered to the left, drawn by the smoke. Ahead, the prison tent finally took shape, isolated, ringed by three guard posts.

Zirel appeared on their right, sliding like a specter between the shadows.

"Three guards. I take the center. Dylan, right. Elisa, left. Silently."

A signal. Three movements. Three blades.

Silence returned, sharp and final.

Dylan pulled aside the tent canvas. The air inside smelled of sweat, fever, and fear. Maggie was there, lying on a pallet, wrists bound, her face pale but alive.

"Maggie…"

She opened her eyes slowly, light returning to them—blurry, pained, then grateful.

"You came…" she breathed, a choked laugh escaping her teeth.

"Of course."

He cut her bonds. Elisa immediately knelt to check her injuries. Nothing irreversible. Just fatigue, and the grime of too many days imprisoned.

"Let's get her out. Now," murmured Zirel, already poised to leave.

But Dylan was no longer moving.

Something, beyond the camp's din, beyond even the fear and tension, had brushed against his consciousness.

A familiar pulse.

A cold breath that slid across the nape of his neck.

He turned, and through the partly open slit in the canvas, he saw her.

Alka.

Standing near the command tent, her figure straight, almost motionless. Her face half-lit by the swaying torches. Her eyes calm, too calm. And in her hand—the blue anima gem. The one he thought was lost.

The world faded around him.

The noise, the smoke, the beating of his blood. Everything narrowed into this vision.

Elisa felt the tension in his arm and understood immediately.

"No."

She tried to hold him back. Too late.

Dylan took a step outside.

His gaze locked with Alka's, and the silence between them grew dense, almost tangible.

She didn't seem surprised. Not even troubled.

"I suspected you would come," she said, her voice soft, almost caressing.

He clenched his fists, his words burning in his throat.

"You knew Maggie was here."

"Yes."

Not a hint of remorse.

"You knew they would torture her."

"Yes."

Still the same calm.

He wanted to scream, but something in her gaze—a glint, a veiled pain—stopped him.

She took a step forward.

"You don't understand yet."

"Then enlighten me," he growled.

She raised the gem, and the blue light vibrated between them, pulsing like a living heart.

"All of this, Dylan… is only the beginning."

A low rumble rose from the ground, as if the earth itself was answering her call.

Behind them, Zirel yelled: "Dylan, we're leaving! Now!"

But he no longer heard.

The choice presented itself—Maggie, the mission, or the truth.

And his blood, treacherous and burning, already knew what he would choose.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.