The night air shifted again, colder now, though the forge's warmth pulsed steadily behind Blackridge's walls. Something was changing in the mist—subtle at first, then sharp, like a predator's breath brushing against the back of the neck.
Riku didn't sleep. He stood by the east watchtower, scanning the ridge through a cracked lens scope. Even with the upgraded comm nodes, silence weighed heavier than before. No returning scouts. No movement beyond the perimeter. Only the mist, curling low like smoke from unseen fires.
Sira approached at dawn. Her steps were slower than usual, boots streaked with dust from the ridge paths. "Patrol Three didn't check in."
Riku lowered the scope, his jaw tight. "When did they last report?"
"Four hours ago. They were sweeping the eastern vent line."
That was too long. Far too long.
He turned to Kael, already approaching with fresh gear. "You're with me. Sira, hold the walls. If we don't report back by dusk, lock down the forge and collapse the outer ridge."
Sira's mouth tightened, but she nodded. Orders were orders.
They set out with five spearmen in tow, traveling light and fast. The mist thickened as they crossed into the vent plains. Heat pulsed beneath the cracked earth, distorting the air, but no sound met them—not even the distant chirp of thermal birds or the shifting scrape of ash lizards.
Then they found them.
Three bodies, torn open but carefully placed, as though someone—or something—had set them in display. No beast claw marks, no sovereign weapons. Just long, thin tears along the armor and exposed throats.
Kael crouched beside one, his face hard. "This wasn't a random hunt. They were studying us."
Riku scanned the ridges above, his instincts prickling. "Stay low. Watch the shadows."
They barely had time to react.
The first strike came from the right—a blur of pale, spined flesh bursting from the mist. It hit one of the spearmen clean, dragging him back into the fog before his cry faded.
"Formation!" Riku barked.
The creatures circled—Miststalkers. Thin, whip-fast predators, skin translucent against the fog, their movements fluid and almost soundless. Three of them, maybe four, darted between the steam vents like flickers of light.
Kael threw his glaive, pinning one against a basalt spire. It writhed and hissed, scattering into faint ash. The others hesitated but only for a breath before attacking again.
Riku spun his glaive wide, cutting one across the flank. Its body split in two, dissolving mid-air. The final stalker lunged for Kael's throat but was intercepted by a precise spear thrust from one of the remaining guards.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the ridge was silent again.
Mist drifted back, curling away from the bodies. No more creatures emerged.
Kael wiped his blade clean with a slow breath. "That was a scout pack. Not a hunting pack."
Riku nodded. "Which means there are more. And bigger."
They retrieved what they could—mostly fractured claws and shattered fang cores. He collected one of the alpha's fangs himself. Even broken, it felt unnervingly sharp in his palm.
The walk back to Blackridge was quiet.
By the time they returned, the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the trenches. Sira met them at the gate, relief passing briefly across her face before settling into concern.
"Report."
"Five left. Lost two."
"Cause?"
Riku showed her the fang. "Miststalkers. Hunting this ridge."
Sira stared at it for a long moment before nodding. "We'll adjust night watch patterns."
That night, as the camp settled into tense quiet, Riku laid the fang on the forge workbench. Its surface caught the forge-light strangely, reflecting edges sharper than they had been hours before.
He left it there and turned away, but when he returned in the morning, something had changed.
The fangs, once dull and cracked, now sat honed and perfect—edges lined with micro serrations, ready to be fitted into traps or weapons.
He didn't question it aloud. Quiet miracles were best left unspoken.
Instead, he set to work fitting them into the trigger mechanisms of the eastern traps. If the Miststalkers came again, they wouldn't leave with whole skins.
As dawn broke on the third day of the Blood Moon, the mist beyond the ridge remained still. But Riku knew it was only the beginning.
Somewhere out there, larger shadows watched from the depths, waiting for the moment Blackridge let its guard down.
He didn't plan on giving them one.