The Silver-Fanged Hills faded behind them, consumed by shadow and silence.
Rael didn't look back.
Every instinct warned him: that place was now cursed. Not by superstition, but by truth. Whatever had awakened in the ravine would not stop until it fed on something. Or someone.
They moved with urgency, crossing low valleys and winding through sparse woods. By the second day, Lin's cloak was tattered, her boots caked in mud. Veil remained unusually quiet, draped around Rael's shoulders like a sleeping ribbon of silk.
Rael didn't sleep.
He didn't need to—not yet. The refinement he'd begun after the seal's breaking was still echoing through his body. His blood ran hotter. His bones pulsed faintly with Qi. The trait he'd inherited—the one from the masked hunter—still lingered within him.
[Trait Residue: Predator's Intuition]
Duration Remaining: 12 Hours
Effect: Heightened threat awareness, instinctive response boost.
Warning: Residue will vanish. Further use requires assimilation—at a cost.
He could feel it burning, but he would not keep it.
Every gain had its price.
And he'd already paid enough.
---
On the third day, as the terrain leveled out, the scent of smoke met them on the wind.
Rael raised his hand.
They crouched low behind a cluster of stone boulders. Ahead, barely visible past a line of low pines, a line of wooden wagons creaked along a dirt road. Flags fluttered above them—red, white, and a deep blue marked with a feathered claw.
A caravan.
Large.
Heavily armed.
And heading east.
Veil stirred. Lin narrowed her eyes.
"Ravenscar," she whispered. "They're a merchant clan. But not one of the good ones."
Rael stayed silent, observing.
The caravan wasn't just traders. He could see armored guards marching in formation. Two beast-drawn war wagons trailed behind, each loaded with sealed crates and heavy chains.
Something dangerous was inside.
---
They followed the caravan from a distance.
No one in their right mind approached the Ravenscar without cause. But Rael had cause.
They needed safe passage—and faster transport.
They also needed information. If that thing from the hills was loose, news would spread. Or worse—others might come looking for it.
That night, they made camp on a ridge overlooking the caravan's resting site.
Lin leaned back against a fallen log, tossing a dried fruit into her mouth. "We sneak into one of the supply wagons, ride east until the next border town, then split before anyone notices."
Rael shook his head. "Too risky. They check their cargo. Regularly."
"…Then what? Fight?"
"No," Rael said. "We make them invite us in."
---
By the time the sun rose, Rael had already moved.
Veil coiled around his arm, her form hidden beneath a traveler's sleeve. His old cloak had been patched, his face smudged with ash and dirt. To the Ravenscar, he would look like a wounded cultivator seeking escort.
Bait.
He stepped out from the brush as the lead wagon came into view.
Almost immediately, shouts erupted.
"Traveler ahead!"
"Form ranks!"
Rael raised his hands slowly. "I'm unarmed. Injured. Just seeking shelter!"
The guards hesitated.
Then a tall man stepped forward—his armor different from the others. Sleek. Etched with talon patterns.
Captain.
His gaze narrowed.
"You're either brave or foolish to walk near our banners."
Rael didn't blink. "Which gets me on the wagon?"
The captain smiled faintly. "Neither. But guts are worth coin."
---
They brought him before the caravan master before noon.
She sat beneath a silk canopy, sipping spiced wine. Her robes were loose, elegant—clearly from one of the upper cities. But her eyes were sharp. Calculating.
"So," she said, studying him. "You survived the southern hills."
Rael remained standing. "Barely."
"That place has been forbidden since the old wars. Strange for a stray cultivator to wander there."
Rael said nothing.
The woman smiled. "I admire silence. Means you know the value of secrets."
She waved a hand.
"You'll ride with the rear guard. In exchange, you'll help defend us if trouble comes. Agreed?"
Rael nodded once.
The deal was sealed.
---
They moved faster after that.
Lin slipped into the caravan two hours later, disguised as a courier. No one questioned her. She had that face—forgettable, fluid.
By evening, they had a full layout of the caravan's operation.
Ten wagons. Two sealed cages. A merchant captain with too many guards.
And a hidden vault wagon filled with beast cores.
---
That night, Rael sat atop the final wagon, watching the moon rise.
Veil stirred beside him, her body barely visible in the dark.
He looked toward the sealed cage two carts down.
Something inside it was breathing.
Slow.
Measured.
Not asleep.
Not awake.
[Beast Core Detected: Variant Tier]
Status: Injured – Dormant – Cursed
Warning: Approaching the cage without proper seals may trigger spiritual backlash.
Veil whispered through their bond.
"It's aware."
Rael's eyes narrowed.
"Of us?"
"No. Of itself."
He didn't sleep that night.
---
By the fifth day, the road ahead curved toward a canyon pass known as Hollowfang's Mouth. Narrow, treacherous—and ideal for ambushes.
Rael didn't like it.
Neither did the guards.
But the caravan master seemed unconcerned.
"We're expected in Kalduen within the week. Delays are not an option."
So they moved forward.
But Rael's instinct—the Predator's Intuition—twitched again.
Something waited ahead.
Not bandits.
Not beasts.
Something older.
He stared into the narrowing gorge as dusk settled over the rocks.
And he remembered the thing that had crawled from the ravine.
Not alone.
Never alone.
---