Hurried footsteps echoed through the damp, brick hallway, their rhythm uneven on the moss-covered stones. The air was heavy with the scent of mildew, and flickering fire-lit lanterns cast long, trembling shadows that did little to dispel the gloom.

The two figures reached the end of the corridor, where a thick wooden door loomed. Its iron hinges groaned as they pushed it open, disturbing the darkened chamber within.

The man inside turned sharply, his hooded figure silhouetted against a glowing circle of intricate runes etched into the floor. The faint hum of magic pulsed in the air. He didn’t look pleased.

“What is it now?” he snapped, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

One of the minions stepped forward, his breathing labored. “Master, there’s a problem.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed beneath his hood. “What kind of problem?”

“The monster, Master,” the other minion stammered. “It’s… gone.”

“Gone?” His tone dropped dangerously low. The hum of magic intensified around him as his fists clenched. “Explain.”

The minions exchanged nervous glances, their hunched forms trembling. “We’re not sure how,” the first one admitted. “It’s just… no longer there. We’re investigating, but—”

“Enough!” the leader’s voice thundered, the runes beneath him glowing brighter as if reacting to his fury. “Do you have any idea what this means? I conjured that beast for a purpose!”

“We—we’ll find out what happened, Master,” the second minion said hastily, bowing so low his hood nearly touched the floor.

“You had better,” the leader hissed, his eyes blazing with unnatural light. “Whoever dared interfere with my plans will pay the price.”

“Yes, Master!” The two minions fled, their footsteps receding into the hall.

The leader turned back to the glowing runes, his expression unreadable as his fingers traced the edge of a jagged scar on the stone floor. “First, the traces of the savior vanish,” he murmured to himself, his voice a low growl. “And now this. Whoever you are, I will find you… and you will regret crossing me.”

The runes pulsed once more, and the faint scent of burning filled the air as the leader resumed his work, dark intentions swirling around him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later

Six months had passed since the Frostmaw’s rampage, and life in the village had slowly returned to normal. The marketplace bustled with activity, children played in the streets, and farmers tended their fields. But even as the village regained its rhythm, one name was still whispered with admiration: Nyx.

The villagers hailed her as their savior. Though no one knew exactly what happened that night, stories of her bravery had spread far and wide. Her silver cape, her calm determination, and her willingness to risk herself for the village had made her a hero in their eyes.

“Nyx!” a shopkeeper called out as she passed by. “Wait! I saved a sweet bun for you. It’s the least I can do for what you’ve done for us.”

Nyx smiled softly, accepting the bun with a quiet “thank you.”

Children trailed behind her as she walked through the village, their voices filled with excitement. “Miss Nyx, tell us about the monster again! Was it as big as the stories say?”

Nyx crouched down, meeting their eager faces with a small grin. “It was bigger,” she said, her tone light. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of now. It’s gone.”

The children gasped in awe before running off to retell her words to anyone who would listen.

Word of Nyx’s actions had even reached the royal court. The king of Sintara had sent a formal invitation, requesting to meet the village’s “savior.” When the letter arrived, the entire village gathered to encourage her to go.

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“It’s an honor!” one of the elders had exclaimed. “You must go, Nyx. The king himself wants to thank you!”

But Nyx had politely declined. “I’m just a hunter,” she said simply. “There’s no need for all this.”

Though the envoy tried to convince her otherwise, Nyx stood her ground. Eventually, they left, and the villagers admired her humility even more.

But Nyx’s greatest secret wasn’t her humility. It was Frosty—the monstrous Frostmaw she had defeated and then resurrected as a shadow soldier.

Now bound to her will, Frosty prowled silently within her Shadow Domain. The Frostmaw’s silver fur gleamed like liquid starlight, its jagged claws and icy breath as deadly as ever. Even within the ethereal darkness of her domain, Frosty’s presence radiated power.

Nyx would often call it forth in the quiet of the forest, away from prying eyes. The beast would materialize from her shadow, its massive frame dwarfing her as it knelt in obedience. Despite its intimidating form, it had grown oddly protective of her, often following her with a loyalty that reminded her of a loyal dog.

“You’re not what I expected,” Nyx muttered one evening, running her hand along the Frostmaw’s shimmering fur. The creature huffed softly in response, lowering its head to her level.

Uriel’s voice echoed in her mind, calm yet analytical. “The Frostmaw retains its power but has lost its original purpose. It serves you now, though its creation remains unnatural.”

Nyx tilted her head, watching as Frosty prowled through the shadows. “You said before it wasn’t made by the dungeon. Do you think someone created it?”

“I do,” Uriel replied. “Its magic signature is unlike anything we’ve encountered. It bears traces of a higher power—likely a constellation.”

Nyx frowned, her chest tightening. “A constellation? But why would they send it here?”

“That remains unclear,” Uriel admitted. “It’s possible the village was merely a testing ground. Whoever created the Frostmaw wanted to see its potential.”

Nyx clenched her fists, the thought sending a chill down her spine. “If they sent one, they could send another.”

“Indeed,” Uriel agreed. “But now we have an advantage. The Frostmaw is yours. Its strength is no longer a threat—it’s an asset.”

Nyx glanced at the towering beast, its silver eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. “You’re right,” she said softly. “But we need to find out who’s behind this. If they come back, I want to be ready.”

Uriel’s tone was steady. “I will continue to search for answers. But this will take time.”

Nyx nodded, her resolve hardening. The Frostmaw had been a warning—one she couldn’t ignore. Whoever was responsible for its creation, they wouldn’t stop at one experiment.

As Frosty returned to her shadow, Nyx took a deep breath, her amethyst eyes glinting with determination. “Let them come,” she murmured. “I’ll be ready.”

The village buzzed with its usual rhythm—farmers tending their fields, children playing near the market, and merchants haggling loudly over fresh produce. For Nyx, life as a hunter had returned to normal, or at least as normal as it could get after everything that had happened.

She still frequented the guild, taking on regular F-rank jobs to hunt small creatures or clear pests from farmland. She preferred it this way—quiet, predictable, and uncomplicated. Yet, things around her were beginning to change.

Some of the higher-ranking hunters, the ones Nyx would often see boasting of their conquests or nursing their drinks at the guild’s tables, had started leaving the village. Their reasons were always the same—opportunity.

“Better jobs in the capital,” one had said as he packed his gear.

“Draconia is where the real glory is,” another had declared, puffing out his chest.

Nyx didn’t begrudge them their ambitions. She understood it. Draconia, the capital, was a place of endless possibilities for those strong enough to seize them. But for her, the thought of leaving her small, cozy life here didn’t appeal.

When the last group of departing hunters set out on their journey, Nyx stood by the village gate, watching them go.

“Good luck,” she called out, raising a hand in farewell.

“Thanks, Nyx,” one of the hunters said, grinning at her. “Take care of this place for us, yeah? It’s in good hands with you.”

She smiled softly, waving as they disappeared down the road. When their figures finally vanished into the distance, Nyx turned and made her way back into the village.

Not everything was changing, though. Some things remained the same—like the way the villagers greeted her warmly when she passed or how Till would drop by the orphanage almost daily to check on her.

Another bit of excitement loomed on the horizon: a new ceremony was coming up. This one, however, carried a special significance for Till.

“Are you nervous?” Nyx asked him one afternoon as they walked through the market.

Till fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his usual energy dampened by unease. “A little,” he admitted. “I mean, what if I don’t get anything? Again?”

Nyx shook her head, her silver hair catching the sunlight. “You will,” she said firmly. “You’ve been working hard, Till. I know it’ll happen this time.”

Till glanced at her, his brow furrowed. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Nyx replied with a small smile. “And once you do, we can go on dungeon raids together. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Till’s face brightened at the thought. “Yeah, it is! I mean, it’d be amazing. Imagine us taking down monsters together!”

Nyx chuckled softly, shaking her head at his enthusiasm. “Just don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll need to train first. It’s not all fun and glory, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Till said, waving her words away. But his grin didn’t falter.