Greyhaven was quiet that night — too quiet for a city that never slept.
The streets shimmered from a recent rain, reflecting neon signs like broken glass. Rick walked a few paces ahead of Lira and Marrek, his boots splashing through puddles that rippled with the faint hum of magic still clinging to the air.
They'd been tracking whispers — something moving through the alleys, killing both human and fae without leaving a trace. The Underveil called it the Hound. Some said it was a spirit bound by blood. Others claimed it was a weapon from the old wars — a thing that didn't serve light or shadow, only hunger.
Whatever it was, it had left behind twelve bodies in two nights.
Rick stopped at the corner of Glass Street, his breath turning white.
"This is the spot," Lira said quietly, scanning the rooftops. "Last sighting was here."
Rick crouched beside a faint scorch mark on the pavement. It wasn't fire — it was ether burn, the residue left behind when something crossed between realms. He touched the mark, and the moment his fingers brushed it, something snapped behind his eyes.
A flash.
Blood on the glass.
A woman screaming.
A wolf made of smoke and metal.
He gasped and stumbled back.
Marrek steadied him. "What did you see?"
Rick's eyes glowed faintly silver — the mark on his wrist pulsing like a heartbeat. "It's hunting someone," he said slowly. "And whatever it's chasing… it's close."
A sudden clang echoed from above.
They looked up just in time to see a shape leap between rooftops — fast, silent, glinting under the moonlight like armor and shadow stitched together.
Lira unsheathed her dagger, runes sparking along the blade. "It's here."
Rick drew a slow breath, centering his mind the way Lira had taught him. "We catch it alive if we can. I need to know who sent it."
But when they turned the corner, the alley was empty. Just dripping pipes, the hum of old power lines, and a faint metallic scent — like rust and lightning.
Marrek frowned. "It's toying with us."
"No," Rick said softly. "It's watching."
---
The first attack came a second later.
The Hound burst from the shadows — huge, four-legged, its body a nightmare of smoke and iron, eyes burning with red sigils. It slammed into Marrek, tossing him like a rag doll. Lira darted in, slicing its flank; sparks flew, but the wound sealed instantly.
Rick's pulse thundered. He raised his hand — the Veilmark igniting in silver flame — and shouted, "Rai'aen!"
A shockwave tore through the air, slamming the creature into a wall. For a moment, it stayed down, twitching. Then, it looked up — and spoke.
> "You should not bear that mark, child of the fallen Veil."
The voice was metallic and wrong, echoing inside Rick's skull.
"What are you?" he demanded.
The Hound's form flickered, revealing glimpses of a human silhouette trapped inside — eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. Then the image vanished, replaced by the monstrous shape once more.
Lira shouted, "It's bound to someone — maybe a mage!"
Rick stepped closer, ignoring her warning. The Hound's energy resonated with his own, like two magnets pulling at each other. He could feel its rage, its pain, its hunger.
And beneath it all — recognition.
"Rick," it whispered through his mind, voice cracking. "You're not supposed to be here."
He froze. "You… know me?"
The creature convulsed. Its head jerked back, limbs spasming, as if something was fighting for control inside it. Lira grabbed Rick's arm and pulled him back. "It's going to explode!"
But instead of detonating, the Hound did something worse — it split into smoke, scattering into the air like ashes. The night went still again, and the mark on Rick's wrist burned until he almost screamed.
Then the voice came again — not the Hound's this time, but deeper, colder.
It came from inside the mark.
> "You can't outrun what's bound to you."
Rick fell to his knees, clutching his arm. The silver light flickered, dimmed, then faded.
Lira knelt beside him. "Rick—what happened?"
He stared blankly at the pavement, his voice distant.
"I think… that thing wasn't sent to kill me."
Marrek, limping toward them, frowned. "Then what?"
Rick looked up at the sky, where the last of the Hound's smoke disappeared into the clouds.
"It was sent to warn me."
---
That night, as they returned to their hideout, none of them spoke much.
But Lira noticed something new in Rick's eyes — a mix of fear and awareness, like he'd seen something he wasn't meant to see.
And when he finally fell asleep, the dreams came again — this time, clearer than before. A city upside-down. A throne made of shadow.
And standing before it, wearing his face, was another version of himself — smiling.
> "When the Veil breaks," the dream-Rick said softly, "only one of us survives."