The town appeared on the horizon like a wound in the landscape. Jagged wooden palisades reinforced with iron, watchtowers rising every fifty meters, and smoke from dozens of forges staining the afternoon sky grey.

Thornstud.

Gabriel pulled his hood lower as they crested the final hill. The town was larger than he'd expected, sprawling against a cliff face that rose like a wall behind it. Eight thousand people, maybe more.

"Bigger than Eldenreach," Tess said beside him.

Gabriel's hand moved to check the illusion charm beneath his cloak. The magic had been weakening since midday, flickering like a candle in wind. Heavy warding. His charm was fighting against it.

"Your eyes," Tess said quietly. "Can anyone see them?"

Gabriel touched his hood, ensuring shadow covered his face. "Not if I'm careful."

The gate was impressive. Twenty feet tall, reinforced with iron, flanked by guards in proper armor. Skulls mounted above stared down at arrivals. Wyvern, Vorath, something with too many teeth.

"Entry tax," the guard said as they approached. "Two silver. Each."

Tess paid without argument.

Inside, organized chaos.

The main street lined with shops displaying their specializations like battle standards. A taxidermist had a Vorath head mounted outside. A weaponsmith's sign showed crossed swords over a wyvern skull. Hunters moved through crowds wearing colored armbands. Red for beasts, blue for monsters, black for S-rank kills.

"There," Tess said, nodding toward a three-story building: The Cracked Fang.

The innkeeper was a woman maybe fifty with grey-streaked hair and three fingers missing on her left hand. She took their coin without comment. "Third floor, end of the hall. Don't start fights in my common room."

The room was small but clean. Two beds, a washbasin, a window overlooking the street.

"I'll go downstairs," Tess said. "See what I can learn about the mountains."

Gabriel sat on the bed after she left and checked his sword. The single blade he'd been using since Lucius broke his twins in Eldenreach. Decent, but not enough for what was coming.

The book pressed against his back through the pack. A constant awareness.

Not yet, he thought.

Tess returned as the sun touched the horizon.

"Learn anything?" Gabriel asked.

"The Spine is a death sentence. Multiple hunter parties tried wyvern hunts. None came back." She counted on her fingers. "Last confirmed sighting was eight months ago. White scales, highest peaks. We need equipment. Cold-weather gear, climbing supplies, weapons that can pierce wyvern scales."

"How expensive?"

"Very. There's a dwarf named Tormund Black-Iron who makes weapons for monster hunters. Best in Thornstud, but his prices match."

Gabriel counted his coin. Thirty-two gold, fourteen silver. Not enough.

"We see him anyway," he said. "Even if we can't afford it, he might know alternatives."

Dinner was loud. The common room filled with hunters trading stories. Gabriel forced himself to eat despite the knot in his stomach.

"Heard the Marrows found a Greyscale nest up north, whole village turned."

Gabriel's attention sharpened. He glanced toward the speaker, a tall man with scars across his neck.

"Twenty people, maybe more. All gone Greyscale. Church said to burn it, but the Marrows wanted the bounty. Went in to clear it."

"And?"

"Haven't come back. Four days ago."

Greyscale. Gabriel knew the affliction. Corruption that turned humans into mindless, savage beasts. Irreversible. Victims retained human shape mostly, but skin turned grey and leathery, eyes went white, minds gone. Only hunger and violence remained.

"They breed fast," the scarred man continued. "One nest spawns dozens more if you don't burn it completely. And they're smart enough to use ambush tactics."

Gabriel waited until they returned to their room.

"The Greyscale nest," he said as the door closed.

Tess nodded slowly. "You're thinking what I think you're thinking."

"We need coin. We need to prove we can handle ourselves before facing a wyvern. A Greyscale clearing gives us both."

"The last group hasn't come back."

"Which means the nest is still there. Still worth bounty money."

"Gabriel..."

"I know it's dangerous. But we need better gear, and I need to know I can fight properly before we go into those mountains."

Tess was quiet. Then: "This is a test. You're testing yourself."

"Yes."

"Fine. But we talk to Tormund first. See what he needs, what he charges. Then we decide."

Morning came cold and grey.

Tormund's forge was carved directly into the cliff face, using natural heat vents. The main chamber was large, with multiple workstations and weapon racks. Heat poured from the doorway.

A dwarf stood at the central forge, hammer in hand. Maybe four and a half feet tall, broad-shouldered, black beard braided in three sections. He didn't look up.

"I don't take walk-in commissions," he said, voice rough. "Come back with an appointment."

"We need information," Tess said.

"Information costs same as metal. Get out."

Gabriel stepped forward. "We're hunting a wyvern. We need armor that can withstand its claws."

The hammer paused mid-swing.

Tormund set down the tool and turned. His dark eyes moved between them, assessing.

"A wyvern," he said finally. "You two."

"Yes."

The dwarf laughed. It wasn't kind. "You're either the bravest fools I've met or the dumbest. You'd need an army."

"We don't have an army."

"Then you'll die." Tormund turned back to his work. "I don't forge for corpses. Waste of good metal."

Tess spoke before Gabriel could. "What would it take to convince you we're serious?"

Tormund paused. He set the metal aside, wiping his hands.

"You want me to take you seriously? Fine." He moved to a rack and pulled down a chest piece. "Ironscale plate. Light enough to move, strong enough to turn wyvern claws. Had it commissioned for a hunter who died before pickup."

The armor was beautiful. Dark grey metal with subtle blue shimmer, articulated plates that would allow movement.

"How much?" Gabriel asked.

"Eighty gold."

Gabriel's heart sank. He had thirty-two.

Tormund saw his expression and smirked. "Told you." He started to put the armor back.

"Wait," Gabriel said. "What if we could get you something worth the difference?"

The dwarf paused. "Like what?"

"You tell me."

Tormund was quiet, thinking. Then he set the armor on the workbench.

"There's a village north of here. Three days' ride. Place called Millren's Rest. Had maybe thirty people before the Greyscale took them."

Gabriel's attention sharpened.

"Church sent a cleansing team to burn it, but hunters called the Marrows got there first. Wanted the bounty. Went in four days ago. Haven't come back."

"We heard about that," Tess said.

"Then you know they're probably dead. Greyscale nests are nasty. Thirty people means thirty Greyscale, at least." Tormund pulled down a small clay jar. "Greyscale corruption leaves residue in the bones. In the skull, right here." He tapped his forehead. "Crystallized deposit forms. Greystone. It's valuable to alchemists, and I use it in my work."

He set the jar down. "Bring me twenty Greystone crystals. Proof you cleared at least twenty Greyscale. Do that, and the armor is yours. Plus twenty gold on top."

"I need weapons too," Gabriel said. "Twin swords. My partner left one behind in Adaranthe."

Tormund raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious. Fine. Clear the whole nest. Thirty Greyscale, thirty crystals. I'll throw in twin swords. Ironscale ore, balanced for dual-wielding. Plus the armor, plus twenty gold, plus cold-weather climbing gear." He paused. "But I'm not holding my breath. The Marrows were six experienced hunters."

"We'll manage," Gabriel said.

Tormund pulled a rough map from a drawer. "Millren's Rest is here, three days north. Village in a valley, one road in and out. If the Greyscale are still there, they'll have it locked down."

He tapped the map. "They'll use buildings for ambush. They're savage but not stupid. They remember enough to use tools, open doors, set simple traps. And they hunt in packs."

"Weaknesses?" Tess asked.

"Same as any human. Head or heart. Fire works, but they're fast." Tormund handed Gabriel the map. "Mark the buildings you clear. If you survive, bring back the Greystones."

Gabriel took it. "We'll be back in a week."

"If you're back at all."

They spent the rest of the day gathering supplies. Preserved rations, medical supplies, oil and torches, rope. Gabriel bought a backup sword. Tess restocked arrows and bought a small crossbow.

That evening in the common room, Gabriel listened to scattered conversations about the nest while maintaining his sword.

"You do that every night," Tess said from her bed.

"Master Arthur taught me." Gabriel didn't look up. "A Paladin's blade must never dull."

"What was it like? Before?"

Gabriel paused. "I wanted to protect people. Fight monsters. Stand between the innocent and darkness." He resumed his work. "I thought it was noble."

"And now?"

"Now I know the Paladins are as corrupted as everything else. The Church, the Order, all of it."

"Not all of them. Master Arthur tried to teach you right."

"He's probably dead now. Or still serving the institution that destroyed me."

Gabriel finished and set his blade aside. "The Greyscale. They were people once. Families, farmers, maybe children. Now they're just empty. Violent."

"You're not like them," Tess said.

"Not yet."

"Gabriel..."

"The incomplete awakening is changing me. The healing, the instincts, the red smoke getting stronger. What if I'm already too far gone?"

Tess sat up, meeting his eyes. "Then I'll be there to pull you back."

"You might not be able to."

"Then I'll try anyway."

The conviction in her voice made something tighten in Gabriel's chest.

"Get some sleep," Tess said. "Tomorrow we leave."

Gabriel closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come easily.

Outside, Thornstud settled into nighttime rhythm. And north, three days away, a village full of monsters waited.

Monsters that had once been human.

Just like Gabriel was becoming.

He touched the book through his pack.

Soon, the voice promised. Complete the trial, Dracamere.

Gabriel's hand clenched.

First the nest. Then the wyvern. Then the transformation.

One impossible task at a time.

His dreams were filled with grey faces and screaming.

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