They huddled in the forest as the sun began to rise over the smoking chimneys of Oakhaven. Lyra was asleep, her head in Kaelen's lap.
Kaelen looked at his hands. They were covered in soot, oil, and blood. He felt the weight of his fifty years. He had wanted a simple life, a second chance to do things right. But the world was changing too fast.
The "civilization" was a monster, and it was hungry for the very earth that gave them life.
"I'm not going to let them take it," he whispered to the sleeping girl. "I'm going to burn it all down first."
He looked back at the city. Far below the manor, he saw something that made his blood run cold. Another metallic door, just like the one in the mountain, was being hauled out of a deep pit by hundreds of slaves.
The Hunt wasn't just for Lord Alaric. The Hunt was for the technology of a dead world—and Kaelen was the only one who knew how to kill it.