“Damn it!” Hayden cursed as he drove his heels mercilessly into the flanks of his horse.

Before him, the sun had begun its descent beneath the treeline. As dusk unfurled its shroud over the Vale, shadows elongated and slithered across the cobblestones, whispering secrets of the night. Night would soon drape its cloak over the land, bringing with it a chill that now seeped into his very bones.

Ever since his friends began to turn up slaughtered like beasts in the streets, Hayden had taken to avoiding the dark of night. It was then that the killer prowled, when the city slept and only the creatures that roamed the night were there to bare witness to their end. For Hayden, each sunset now carried with it a weight of dread. That someone was out there, waiting to end him as it had the others.

Normally, Hayden was safely within his father's manse by this hour. Yet today, he had found himself distracted.

This was not the first time he’d laid eyes on her. That had been last fall, just as he and his companions were returning to court. But this time he’d been able to follow her to her home – a small, isolated cottage in the foothills below Nightfall.

She was perfect, a vision of youthful grace. No more than fifteen, she possessed a petite frame and delicate features, with dark hair that tumbled like a waterfall and large brown eyes. There was an air of the exotic about her, a quality that stirred something deep within him, igniting a flicker of excitement that felt both exhilarating and dangerous.

She had been at the market today. He had watched from a distance, his eyes hidden beneath the hood of his cloak as they followed her from stall to stall. Tracking her every movement as she interacted with vendors, her laughter like soft tinkling bells that beckoned him closer. She was radiant, a beacon of warmth amidst the chill of his existence.

No one knew who she was, only that she was a rare sighting in town. He wanted her, and he would have her. It was only a matter of time. There was just the complication of having to work in the daylight hours – thanks to his dead companions.

“Curse them!” Hayden seethed, the bitterness coiling in his gut as he thought of his dead friends now interred beneath the earth, their bodies cold and still, awaiting to rise with the dawn—at least someday, if the promises of the Ascended and his Risen God were to be trusted.

If only he had kept it to himself, he thought sourly, then he wouldn’t be trapped in this wretched predicament. He could have handled those girls on his own, that much he was certain. Younger, smaller, and all too naïve. He would have enjoyed a bit of struggle, welcomed it even—it added a certain thrill to the endeavour. Instead, he found himself caught in a web of complications all thanks to the strong guilt and weak will of his companions.

“One of them talked!” snarled Hayden to himself as he rode into the empty courtyard of his fathers manse.

The choice to involve his friends had been foolish, a reckless gamble that had cost him dearly. He’d thought it would be entertaining to include them, but now he knew better. This would not be a mistake he repeated in the future.

It was all so utterly infuriating. This should have been so easy. He had been so damned careful. Everything from selecting only girls from the fringes of society—poor commoners, the youngest daughters of downtrodden farmers and tradesmen, the very lowest of the unwanteds. Girls who were burdens to their families, seen as little more than extra mouths to feed. The ones he was sure were least likely to be missed, their absence barely stirring a ripple in the lives of those they left behind.

He had scouted them meticulously, watching their daily routines from the shadows, noting the lack of concern in their families’ eyes. Each girl had a story of hardship and neglect, a despair woven into the fabric of their existence. He felt no guilt; in fact, he relished the ease with which he could pluck them from their drab lives, removing them from a world that had little love for them.

Old farmer Tavon was far too old, and without any sons or grandsons to manage his fields they had been abandoned to the wilds once more. There had been something poetic about burying one of his own young granddaughters on old Tavon’s land after they’d had their fun with her.

There was no doubt in Hayden’s mind that they would have continued to get away with it had one of them not let things slip. The thought made Hayden’s blood boil, a fresh wave of anger surging through him like fire. Now, because one of them couldn’t keep his mouth shut, three of them were dead, and he was left standing alone, the last of their foolish fellowship, with a murderer still at large.

Worse, he was now confined to his father’s manse after the fall of dark. Forced to adhere to a curfew like a child.

Angrily tossing the reins of his mount to the waiting groomsman, Hayden stormed into his father’s manse. The sprawling two-story stone edifice, a testament to Lord Dennard’s status, loomed over the bustling city centre like a watchful sentinel. Its grey stone walls illuminated against the encroaching darkness by the light of flickering lamps.

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Marching down the dimly lit halls, Hayden felt the tension in the air thicken with each step. As he approached the heavy oak door to his father’s study, the servants lingering outside scattered like flies from a corpse. Initially, their eavesdropping puzzled him, but then he heard the low growls from within; the old Bear was here.

Through the closed door, Jasper Facilious’ deep voice rumbled with barely restrained fury "You said you would deal with this, Dennard! Yet my son lays dead in the ground and the monster continues to roam the Vale.”

"I understand your grief, Jasper. But you must realize—" his father started to respond before he was cut off.

"Excuses! Had you dealt with it when you should have, my son would still be alive!” the old Bear growled, “My boy was slaughtered like a lamb, and you remain more concerned about finding some damned Harbinger!” the old Bear snarled.

“It’s not that simple, Jasper,” Lord Conrad interjected, his tone grave. “The Ascended has demanded the Harbinger be brought in for punishment. He intends to make an example of them.”

“Fuck the Ascended and their Harbinger! The people of Vesper are starting to whisper, wondering where their lord’s true loyalties lie—whether with the Azure Tower or with the Vale. Perhaps they’re right to question,” Jasper declared, his disdain thick in the air.

"I need time to gather more men, to strategize—" started his father, only to find himself cut off once more.

“Time? How many more lives must be sacrificed to your indecision? How many more must die before you find the courage to put the Vale above all else?” Jasper’s voice thundered.

Hayden could almost see his father bristle at the challenge. Dennard’s voice grew sharp, steel beneath the surface. “I will not be rushed into folly, Jasper. I will do what is necessary to protect this Vale, but first, I must deal with the Harbinger. We cannot risk the wrath of the Ascended and the Risen God.”

“That is folly! The ramblings of a drunk, that is what you chase!” snapped Jasper.

“Harbingers pose a danger to the realm. As much as any monster,” said Dennard, his voice taunt.

“Do not think to pull that on me, boy. You forget, I’m old enough to remember the ways before the Ascended and his Risen God. They may have the youth of the Realm convinced Harbingers are a danger, but I know better. As do you.” Jasper shot back, his voice a low growl. “Enough wasting time, find this damned monster before another dies.”

“Watch your tongue, Jasper.” Dennard’s voice carried a sharp edge, a clear warning. “You forget your place.”

“You’re so focused on appeasing the Ascended that you’re losing sight of what matters most. The people look to you for leadership, not indecision.” said the old Bear, his grizzled voice a low growl, "Your misguided allegiances will be your ruin, Dennard. Mark my word on that one. ”The Vale should come before all else."

The heavy sounds of the old Bear’s boots echoed against the stone floor of his father’s study, each stomp a testament to his fury. With a swift motion, the wooden door swung open, revealing Jasper’s imposing figure, silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the window.

Hayden leapt aside, narrowly avoiding being trampled as Jasper Facilious stormed out into the hall. If the old Bear noticed him, he gave no sign, his furious gaze locked on the distant stone walls of the corridor. Jasper's boots pounded against the floor, each step a thunderous reminder of his anger, his voice a low growl as he muttered curses under his breath.

Giving a moment for the air to clear, Hayden stepped up to the door and knocked soundly before entering. His father, Lord Dennard Conrad, raised his gaze, and the corners of his mouth pulled down into a deeper scowl at the sight of his youngest son.

“What do you want, Hayden? And be quick about it” Dennard asked, his tone sharp, as he pushed a stack of scrolls aside. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his furrowed brow, highlighting the stress etched into his features.

“I came to talk,” Hayden replied, his voice steady despite the tension. He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. “With all that has happened as of late in the Vale, I was wondering if it might be wise for me to return to the capital?”

“So you wish to run away, hm?” asked Dennard, his voice dripped with disdain, “Somehow this does not surprise me.”

“Of course not, my lord.” Hayden protested, “I merely did not wish—”

“I have let this go on for too long. Let me quash this cowardice right now – no you will not be returning to court.” said Dennard, his attention returning to the paperwork on his desk. “Now is there anything else? I have work to do.”

Every fibre in Hayden’s body resonated with anger, his hands clamped into fists at his side. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, but he had hoped—hoped to be free of this dying town and put some distance between himself and the killer who still stalked the shadows of Vesper. There was safety to be found in the halls of the Emphyeral Hold, where the court presided.

“No, father. Nothing further,” Hayden muttered.

As he turned to leave, his father’s voice cut through the air, heavy with disdain. “If you truly wish to be useful for once, why don’t you help your brothers hunt down this beast? Maybe then you can finally escape from here.”

Hayden paused, a mix of anger and frustration boiling within him. You fool, there is no damn monster. There haven’t been monsters in the Vale for nearly a century. Hayden thought to himself, but said, “Of course father. Thank you.”

Before mankind set foot in the western Midlands, the Synder Forest had once stretched from the Kangsal Mountains, cutting down the heart of the continent like a jagged spine, to the rugged expanse of the Storm Coast. Towering Sentinel Trees, ancient and majestic, reigned supreme, their thick canopies casting a cool, verdant shade over the mountain foothills and much of the western half of the Midlands.

These colossal trees had once stood like guardians of a forgotten age, their gnarled trunks and sprawling branches providing sanctuary to a myriad of life. Beasts of all sorts once wandered the vibrant tapestry of the forest floor. Beasts that had long since vanished with the trees they had once walked beneath. To think one had returned only to terrorise the people of the Vale seemed mad.

Of course, only he and one other knew the truth; the real monster lived under this very roof.