The Guild Hall. Night.
The infirmary had quieted. Healers moved softly between cots. Vex slept, her breathing steady, her face still pale. Grace sat in the corner with a notebook, transcribing everything the scout had said before drifting off again. Garret stood by the door, his hook gleaming in the torchlight, watching.
Grog stood at the window, looking out at the dark city. The hunt he had planned for tonight was forgotten. There was a new hunt now.
Lira entered, her bow across her back. "Mirena's here. Alistair too."
Grog turned. Mirena came through the door, her staff in her hand, her face pale. Behind her, Alistair moved slowly, leaning on a staff that was not his own—his had been damaged in an earlier experiment. His eyes were bright, though, and his voice was clear.
"The tear," he said, moving to the table where the map was already spread. "Vex described it as a crack in the air, thin at first, then wider. That matches the spatial disturbances we've been studying."
Grog walked to the table. "Can you track it?"
Alistair looked at Mirena. She nodded.
"The rings bend space to create pockets," Mirena said, tracing a finger along the map. "The tear is a different application—a fold between worlds, not a pocket. But the fundamentals are the same. The residue it leaves behind... we can detect it. We can follow it."
Edward stepped forward from the doorway. He had been listening in silence, his arms crossed, his face calm. "How long will the residue last?"
Alistair shook his head. "Hours. Maybe a day. The tear closed quickly, but the spatial distortion lingers. If we're going to track them, we need to move now."
Grog looked at the map. The silver lines Alistair had traced still glowed faintly, pulsing like veins of light. "Then we move now."
---
Edward moved to stand beside him. "What do you need?"
Grog studied the terrain. "A small team. Fast. Quiet. No soldiers."
Edward raised an eyebrow. "No soldiers?"
"They'll slow us down. They'll make noise. They'll attract attention." Grog met his eyes. "We don't know what we're walking into. Small and fast is better."
Edward was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "Who goes?"
Grog looked at Lira. "You. Your bow."
Lira nodded.
"Ken." Grog glanced toward the shadows where Ken stood, hood low. Ken said nothing. He didn't need to.
"Mirena." Grog turned to her. "You can read the residue."
Mirena hesitated. "I'm not a fighter."
"You're not going to fight. You're going to track."
She met his eyes. Then she nodded.
Edward spoke. "And you?"
Grog touched his sword. "I lead."
---
Alistair placed his hand over the map. Closed his eyes. The air shimmered. Faint lines appeared on the parchment—silver, pulsing, like veins of light.
"The tear was here," Alistair said, pointing to a spot deep in the eastern forest. "The residue leads east from there. They're moving away from the capital."
Grog studied the markings. "How many?"
"Three. Same as Vex said."
Lira leaned over the map. "The trail splits."
Mirena nodded. "They split up. Two trails. One north, one east."
Ken spoke from the shadows. "They know we're following."
Grog straightened. "Or they're looking for something."
Edward stepped back. "Be careful."
Grog nodded. "Always."
---
They left as the moon rose.
The streets were empty, the windows dark, the city sleeping. Grog led them through the gates, past the guards, into the forest. The trees swallowed them.
Mirena walked beside him, her staff glowing faintly, her eyes on the silver traces only she could see.
"The residue is still fresh," she said. "They came this way. Not running—walking. Steady pace."
Lira moved ahead, her bow drawn, her eyes scanning. "How many on this trail?"
Mirena studied the ground. "One. Maybe two. The others went north."
Ken appeared beside them. "We split."
Grog nodded. "Lira, Ken—take the north trail. Mirena and I take the east."
Lira frowned. "Alone?"
"Mirena can track. I can fight. We'll signal if we find them."
Lira held his gaze for a moment. Then she nodded. "Same."
They separated into the darkness.
---
The forest was dark, the path narrow, the silence heavy.
Grog walked beside Mirena, his sword in his hand, his eyes on the shadows. The silver traces on the ground were faint but visible, pulsing softly in the moonlight.
"They're not hunters," Mirena said quietly.
Grog glanced at her. "How do you know?"
"The residue. It's different from the hunters. The hunters left cold, hungry traces. These are... desperate. Chaotic." She paused. "Whoever they are, they're running from something."
Grog was quiet for a moment. "Then why kill Vex's people?"
Mirena shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe they thought they were enemies. Maybe they panicked."
"Maybe they're just killers."
Mirena didn't answer.
---
The trail led them deeper into the forest.
The trees were older here, their trunks thick, their branches twisted. The moonlight barely reached the ground. The air was cold, still, wrong.
Mirena stopped.
"What is it?"
She pointed ahead. "The trail ends."
Grog moved to her side. The silver traces on the ground—faint but visible—simply stopped. No tracks. No broken branches. No sign of passage.
"Someone was here," Mirena said. "And then they weren't."
Grog scanned the trees. The shadows. The darkness.
"Could they have used magic? Teleported?"
Mirena shook her head. "The residue would show it. Folded space leaves traces—like the rings, but different. This is just... gone."
Grog was quiet for a moment.
"Then where are they?"
---
The arrow came from the north.
Not at them—above them. A signal arrow, bright and burning, arcing over the trees. Lira's signal.
Grog stared at it. His blood went cold.
"No."
He was running before he knew it. His legs carried him into the darkness, his sword in his hand, the berserker stirring in his blood.
"Grog!" Mirena shouted behind him.
He didn't look back. He didn't tell her to stay. He just ran.
The forest blurred around him. Branches whipped his face. Roots caught his feet. He didn't slow.
The signal arrow had come from the north. Lira's position. Lira's signal. She would only use it if she was in trouble. She would only use it if she couldn't handle it herself.
He ran faster.
Behind him, Mirena's light faded into the darkness.
Ahead, the trees thinned. A clearing. The sounds of fighting.
Grog burst through the trees.