The storm returned by nightfall — a hard, driving rain that seemed to come with purpose. Thunder rolled across Graveton's high towers, shaking the old bells that hadn't rung in centuries. Somewhere beneath the storm, war drums began to echo — not beaten by hand, but by force of shadow.
Jayden stood in the war hall again, this time fully armored. Not in Hollow silk or outsider leathers — but in the blackened steel forged by both vampire and wolf, tempered with fire and choice.
His cloak bore no sigil.
Just darkness.
By his side, Elira adjusted her belt of throwing daggers. Her silence said more than anything. She still didn't approve of the mission. But she would not let him walk into death alone.
Across the room, Fen ran his claws along the table's edge. "The harbinger is already moving," he said.
Jayden's brow furrowed. "What harbinger?"
"Old word," Seraya said, entering with a limp. "From the time before language. A being crafted not to fight… but to break resolve. Ashkar's personal punishment. Sent only when he sees potential becoming rebellion."
Jayden's grip tightened around his sword hilt.
Elira whispered, "Then it means he's afraid."
Jayden turned to the gathered crowd of volunteers — a mix of outcasts, warriors, former Hollow guards, wolves, rogue blood priests, and a few humans marked with flamebrands who chose to stay and fight.
"We move in ten," he said.
"We strike the artery. We cut his supply."
He looked at each of them. "We make him bleed."
---
The Shadow Legion moved through the old sewers — a labyrinth of ancient tunnels beneath Graveton that had once fed water to the royal houses. Now, they were filled with moss, memory, and whispers. Seraya's wards kept them hidden, but something still followed them — something slow, and enormous.
Jayden felt it in his bones.
The further they descended, the colder it became. Not freezing — but dead. A kind of cold that memory couldn't survive.
Then the tremor came.
A single, thunderous boom that cracked the stone above them.
The tunnel ahead caved in.
Behind them, the Harbinger arrived.
It didn't roar.
It didn't scream.
It simply walked — slow, tall, with limbs too long and eyes burning purple, like a god that forgot how to die. Bone armor lined its frame, fused with silver veins. A massive chained blade dragged behind it, carving the floor with every step.
Jayden raised his hand. "Split!"
The legion scattered. Elira dove with two others into an archway. Fen hurled a spear. It bounced off the Harbinger's armor like a stick hitting stone.
Jayden sprinted directly at it.
Magic lit the blade in his hand — white fire, the same color that appeared the night he chose the Third Path. He struck once — the Harbinger caught the sword in its bare hand.
Jayden's heart stopped.
The creature grinned.
Then flung him backwards through a wall.
Stone shattered.
Jayden hit the ground hard, his breath knocked out of him.
Before the Harbinger could advance, Elira leapt from the shadows, driving both her blades into its neck. Bloodless. It didn't flinch.
It slammed her into the ground with one massive palm.
Jayden pushed up, coughing, his vision swimming.
The Godfragment in his chest roared — not with power, but with rejection. It recognized the thing before him.
Not vampire.
Not beast.
But first-born pain given shape.
"Fall back!" Fen growled. "We're not killing this tonight!"
Jayden's fists clenched. "Then we hold it."
Seraya's voice crackled through his rune-stone communicator. "Get to the artery. We'll slow it from here."
"But—"
"Go!"
Jayden met Elira's eyes as she stumbled toward him.
"Take five with you. Fen and I will cover."
He didn't want to leave them — but he knew what had to be done.
They ran.
The Harbinger let them.
Because it wasn't here to win.
It was here to warn.
---
Hours later, in a cold, iron chamber miles beneath Vharnyx Keep, Ashkar traced the edge of a blood map with one black claw.
A whisper from behind: "They survived."
Ashkar smiled without joy.
"So did the world once," he murmured. "Look what good it did."
He looked into the mirror.
"Let the boy believe he's winning."
"Let him taste hope."
Then he turned to the darkness.
"And when he thinks he's strong enough to stand…"
"…break his heart."