The inn had settled into that peculiar rhythm of night. Not silent but breathing differently. Nyra had long since claimed her room, and Luken’s snoring rattled the floorboards above. Tar had curled into a ball near the hearth, his woolly bulk rising and falling with steady breath, yet the city of Kel never truly slept.

  Thal slipped into the night. The protective barrier cast the streets in an ethereal twilight, turning the mix of Beastkin, Ork, and stranger folk into silhouettes that moved with the easy confidence of those who knew safety. He let the current of the city guide him through winding streets, past a trio of merchants arguing in a language of clicks and whistles, past a Dwarf wrestling an automaton in a friendly match that had drawn a laughing crowd. The world moved. It continued its orbit regardless of what weighed on a single Nephilim's shoulders.

  Eventually the noise faded. Thal found himself in a quieter district where the barrier's glow seemed thinner, older. A small gathering caught his attention. Valen was standing in the midst of a group, his charm in full effect as he spoke animatedly to two women. One was a Beastkin, her feline features soft but distinctly sharp ears twitching as she listened, her tail flicking with mild amusement. The other was an Ork woman, her muscular frame leaning casually against a wall, arms crossed as she regarded Valen with a smirk that suggested she wasn’t entirely sold on whatever story he was spinning.

  Thal lingered in the shadows, watching the interaction unfold. Valen’s confidence was undeniable, yet there was something endearing about how he seemed genuinely invested in the conversation, even if his motives were likely less noble. The Beastkin woman tilted her head, a sly grin forming on her lips, while the Ork let out a low rumbling chuckle, clearly entertained by his efforts.

  Thal smiled faintly to himself. Valen, for all his bravado, seemed to fit into any situation with ease. He had a knack for disarming people, even those who might normally keep their guard up, yet Thal didn’t interrupt. Whatever Valen was doing, he was managing just fine without interference.

  Satisfied that Valen wasn’t in any trouble, Thal turned and continued his walk. The city stretched out before him, and though the streets were unfamiliar, there was something oddly comforting about the mix of cultures and the sense of peace within the glowing barrier.

  A voice like stone grinding wet gravel stopped him mid-step. "You."

  The Kruu’Vesp guard filled the alley's mouth. Its segmented body gleamed, chitin reflecting the barrier-light in oil-slick rainbows. Two long fangs twitched above Thal’s eye level, and the multifaceted lenses of its eyes caught the dim light like broken glass. Translucent wings quivered against its back, humming with barely restrained energy. When it shifted, its forearms ending in sharp chitinous blades clicked against each other.

  "The Patron wishes to see you," it rasped.

  Thal kept his expression neutral. "The Patron?"

  The guard tilted its head, mandibles working as if chewing on the words. It studied him with an intensity that made the hair on Thal’s neck rise. Assessment, not aggression. "Yes." A sharp clack of mandibles. "You come now."

  Thal considered the blades, the wings, the way the creature's weight shifted forward onto its segmented legs. Refusal would be noisy. Whoever commanded this thing already knew his name, his nature, his presence in their city.

  He nodded. "Lead the way."

  The Kruu’Vesp hissed, perhaps satisfaction, and turned. Its legs clicked against the cobblestones in an alien staccato as they moved deeper into the city. The architecture shifted around them, growing older, more worn. Buildings carved from the cliff-face itself bore symbols that glowed with faint ancient light, depicting figures with too many limbs and crowns of lightning.

  They stopped before a massive doorway carved into the rock. Intricate symbols etched into the stone pulsed with a rhythm like a slow heartbeat.

  "Inside," the guard hissed.

  Thal stepped through. The chamber beyond was vast, carved for beings of his stature. The ceiling soared high enough that he did not need to duck, and the doorways were broad as city gates. Yet even here, built for giants, he seemed to fill the space too completely. His shoulders brushed the air itself, and when he shifted his weight, the stone beneath his boots groaned, a hairline crack spidering across the floor that did not appear by accident. The room tolerated him, yet it strained.

  "So," a voice smooth as obsidian cut through the dark. "Another Nephilim has come to my city."

  The figure leaned forward, shadows sliding off her form like water. She was not tall, not for her kind, and certainly not compared to Thal, yet she occupied space with the inevitability of a mountain. Her crimson hair burned against the gloom, matched by the ember-glow within black sclera. It was her horns that demanded attention. They curved outward like lightning-struck branches, ridged and jagged, before arching upward in a crescent, then continuing down to fuse with an exposed exoskeleton that traced her spine. The chitin gleamed with the same oily iridescence as her guard's, extending into a tail that dragged against the stone with a sound like a sword being sharpened.

  She rose from the throne. No hesitation, no wasted motion. The Kruu’Vesp guard behind Thal lowered its head nearly to the floor.

  "I am Na’reth," she said, stepping down from the platform. The tail snapped once against the stone, a crack that echoed off the walls. "Patron of this city. Protector." She moved closer, and Thal caught the scent of ozone and cinnamon. "Kael spoke of a warrior who could still armies with his silence. You seem... smaller than the stories."

  Thal said nothing. He was pressing his thumb into the centre of his opposite palm, working the tendon in slow, rhythmic circles. A habit from centuries of waiting for the enemy to show itself.

  Na’reth circled him, her footsteps silent despite the heavy tail that lashed behind her like a pendulum. The exposed spinal ridges caught the torchlight, casting skeletal shadows against the walls. "Your kind are rare, Thal. Ghosts walking among the children of dust. Yet wherever you tread, the shadows ripple." She stopped before him, tilting her head. "Kael couldn't say why you're here. I don't believe in coincidence."

  She turned away, pacing slowly toward the centre of the chamber. Her tail struck the ground again, harder this time. Dust fell from the ceiling.

  "We have a problem," she said. "Something stirs in the shadow of these lands. Ancient. Dangerous." Another step. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "A Harbinger."

  Thal's jaw tightened. His thumb stopped moving. The skin of his palm stood white where he had pressed.

  Na’reth caught the reaction. Her lips curved, sharp and knowing. "Ah. So the stories are true. The Nephilim and their secrets." She raised a hand, and the torches flared suddenly, casting wild shadows. Through the glass oculus set in the chamber's ceiling, the barrier roiled like oil on water, pressing down against the stone. "Dead gods, they call them. Vengeful dragons. Forces of pure chaos. You know what they really are, don't you?"

  Silence answered for her.

  "I don't pretend to understand the Harbingers, nor the role your kind plays in stopping them," she admitted. Her tail went still, hovering like a striking snake, its tip angling unconsciously toward the oculus overhead. "I do know this, however. Without your help, this city and perhaps all the lands beyond it will fall."

  Thal’s gaze remained steady, though his mind churned beneath his stoic exterior. The mention of a Harbinger stirred old concerns, and his thoughts strayed to the north to the Hunter's Haunt and the two souls he’d left behind to face their own trials. Neo and Tor. They were strong, capable in their own right, yet the weight of their task wasn’t lost on him. He had chosen to leave them there, trusting them to handle what they could, yet hearing of another Harbinger so soon filled him with unease.

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  Na’reth, sharp and perceptive, observed the faint tension in his frame. She moved toward him with that fluid predator's grace until she stood close enough that Thal could see the fine texture of her pale skin, the way her tunic's armor plates had been worn smooth by centuries of use. "Look at me, Nephilim."

  He did. He flexed his fingers once, then stilled them.

  "You're quiet," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that still cut. "I expected more questions. Or perhaps even refusal, yet you stand there, lost in thought. Tell me, Nephilim what weighs on you?"

  For a moment, Thal said nothing, his broad shoulders lifting slightly as he exhaled. His gaze shifted briefly to the flickering torches lining the chamber before returning to hers. "I'm thinking," he said simply, his voice low but firm.

  Na’reth tilted her head, clearly unsatisfied with her vague response, yet she didn’t press him further, at least not now. Her tail curled lazily behind her, though the tip remained pointed toward the glass ceiling, as if the barrier itself had tugged a string in her spine.

  "I'll help," Thal continued after a pause, his voice calm but resolute. "If there's a Harbinger, it needs to be dealt with. I'm not the type to walk away from something like this." His tone was pragmatic, though there was a shadow behind his words, a weight Na’reth couldn’t quite place.

  She leaned back slightly, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. "Good. I expected no less."

  Thal crossed his arms, his expression softening just enough to betray a sliver of familiarity. "I'm not surprised Kael's made a home here," he said, changing the subject with deliberate ease. There was a faint note of wry amusement in his tone. "He's always been good at finding places like this and trouble to go with it."

  Na’reth chuckled softly, her voice carrying a dry amusement. "Trouble does seem to follow him, doesn't it? He's... unique, to say the least, yet his talents are undeniable. With you here now, perhaps we have a fighting chance."

  Thal didn’t respond to that, his thoughts briefly flickering back to Neo and Tor. His choice to leave them had been deliberate, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done enough to prepare them. Pushing the thoughts aside, he straightened, his focus returning to the task at hand.

  "When do we start?" he asked, his voice steady.

  Na’reth’s eyes gleamed, a mixture of relief and intrigue flashing across her face. "Soon," she said, her tone decisive. "Kael will brief you on what he knows, and then we’ll act. First, rest. Even a Nephilim needs a moment to prepare."

  Thal nodded, though he didn’t move immediately. As Na’reth’s gaze lingered on him, he could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced by his deflection. For now, she let the matter rest.

  "Ah! The Nephilim graces us with his presence!"

  The voice boomed from the doorway, shattering the chamber's gravity. Kael filled the entrance, his grin as wide as ever. His eyes flicked between Thal and Na’reth, playful mischief evident in his features. Despite the tension in the room, it was clear that Kael was always one to lighten the mood. He walked over to Na’reth, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder, which she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

  "I see you're busy with our brooding friend here," Kael teased, nudging her gently with his elbow. Na’reth rolled her eyes but allowed the playful gesture, a slight smile tugging at her lips. Thal, however, remained unmoved, watching their interaction with an air of familiarity that spoke volumes about their long history.

  "Yes, yes, I'm sure you've been very helpful," Na’reth responded dryly, not bothering to play along with Kael’s usual antics. She looked up at him with a raised brow, her eyes gleaming with something that bordered between affection and mild annoyance. "Have you finished your little game of 'who can annoy Thal more'?"

  Kael raised both hands in mock surrender. "I'll leave you to it, yet don't expect me to go easy on you when we get started." With that, Kael took a step back and motioned for Thal to follow him to a more secluded area of the room. Na’reth moved to her throne, settling herself with an air of quiet authority as she allowed the men to talk business.

  When they were alone in the dim corner, Kael's playful demeanour dropped away like shed skin. He leaned against the stone, his voice dropping to a low rumble that only another Nephilim could hear.

  "The Harbinger," Kael said. "It's not like the others we've faced. This one is older. Deeper."

  Thal leaned beside him, his bulk casting a shadow that swallowed the smaller man. "How deep?"

  "Deep enough that it's been whispering to the barrier. Not attacking it. Talking to it." Kael rubbed his jaw. "I buried one at Xul-Kongo Plateau a century ago. Took three days to put it down in that forest. When I was done, the trees had turned to glass. Not burned. Crystallized. Cold as a dead star." He paused. "It stayed quiet for a hundred years. Then three years ago it woke in Kel. Now it's back again after only six months."

  Thal's jaw tightened. "Too fast."

  "It's accelerating," Kael said, his voice barely audible. "They used to stay dormant for centuries. Now the cycle is shortening. If this keeps up... eventually there won't be enough time between them. Eventually they'll be constant."

  Thal looked toward Na’reth, who sat across the room, her fingers tracing the ancient symbols on her throne with apparent disinterest, though her tail continued its slow sway. "She doesn't know," he said. Not a question.

  "She knows they're dangerous," Kael said. "She doesn't know they're waking faster each time. That the sleep is growing shorter." He turned to Thal, his eyes grave. "If she knew how little time we have before the next one comes..."

  "We bind it," Thal said. "We silence it. That is all we can do."

  "It's a never ending battle," Kael said. He stared at his hands, weathered and scarred despite their immortality. "No final victory. No clean death. Just... delays. Yet if the cycle keeps shrinking..."

  "Then we work faster," Thal said.

  Kael smiled, small and genuine. "There he is. I was worried you'd gone full hermit on me."

  They returned to the centre of the chamber where Na’reth waited. She had moved to a stone table near the wall, unrolling a hide map that showed the region around Kel. Her tail traced the contours of a mountain range as she studied it.

  "Finished sharing secrets?" she asked, her tone dry.

  "Just catching up," Kael said, his grin snapping back into place like a mask. "Now. You wanted to know about the Harbinger."

  "I want to know if it can die," she said. She placed both hands on the table, her claws extending slightly to dig into the wood.

  Thal and Kael exchanged a brief glance, silently weighing how much they should reveal to her.

  "It doesn't die in the traditional sense," Kael said, his voice measured. "There's... something about them. They're forces of nature, beyond the understanding of most. They've been around for centuries, and the Nephilim have learned to deal with them by stopping them, not killing them." He gave Na’reth a careful look. "It's a delicate thing. We're talking about something beyond the reach of mortal understanding, even our own. What you need to know is that we stop them, and that's all we can do."

  Na’reth leaned forward slightly, intrigued but also cautious. "And how long does it take for them to come back? What should I expect?"

  Thal’s gaze hardened. "Faster than we'd like. The one I fought... it returned quicker than I thought. The Harbingers adapt, learn from every fight, and the longer you wait, the worse it gets." He paused, his mind lingering on Neo and Tor, the worry gnawing at him again. "It'll return. It always does."

  Kael gave a wry grin. "And when it does, we'll be ready. It'll be tough, yet it's not impossible."

  Na’reth’s sharp eyes glimmered with a mix of fascination and concern. She could see that the two Nephilim were not only experienced but burdened with the weight of this knowledge, a burden that no other race would fully comprehend. The realization that she was dealing with a force that even these powerful beings feared and couldn't fully defeat was unsettling.

  "Very well," she said, standing up slowly, her eyes flicking between them. "I'll gather my forces. We prepare for what comes next, then. I trust you understand if we fail..."

  "We won't," Thal interrupted, his tone resolute. "I'll make sure of it."

  "And try not to get yourselves killed," Kael added. "I'm too old to train new friends."

  Na’reth turned to him, one brow raised. "Friends? Is that what we are?"

  "I'm hurt, love. After all these years?"

  "Years of you eating my food and breaking my furniture." Her tail had stopped its aggressive swaying. It curled slightly, almost gentle.

  Thal turned toward the door. "I'll be at the inn. When you're ready."

  "Thal," Na’reth called.

  He stopped, half-turning.

  She stood by the map table, backlit by the torches, and for a moment the regal mask slipped. Just a woman bearing the weight of a city. "You understand what failure means."

  "I never fail," Thal said. "I just haven't finished yet."

  Kael laughed, loud and genuine. "There he is. Welcome back, you gloomy bastard."

  Thal walked out into the night. The Kruu’Vesp guard let him pass without challenge, its eyes gleaming in the dark.

  The streets were emptier now, the barrier humming overhead like a lullaby sung off-key. Thal didn't return to the inn immediately. Instead he climbed the winding path toward the city's edge, finding a ledge overlooking the valley beyond the barrier.

  From here, the Shadowfern stretched into darkness, a sea of twisted trees and deeper shadows. Somewhere out there, something ancient opened its eyes. Here, in this fragile bubble of light, two tired immortals prepared to fight a war without end.

  Thal sat, his back against the cool stone, and watched the barrier pulse. From below, faint as a heartbeat, came the sound of laughter and a lute string breaking. Valen’s district, still drinking. Thal sat with his back to the stone, the barrier’s hum vibrating in his teeth, and watched the dark. The laughter seemed impossibly small against the silence of the Shadowfern. He closed his eyes, memorizing the sound of living things, so he would remember what the weight was for.

  Whatever came next, he would meet it. Not because he was chosen. Not because he was strong because he was here and that was always enough.

  The barrier flickered once, a heartbeat of instability, then steadied. Thal opened his eyes, watching the dark, and waited for morning.