The disappearance of the creature provoked tense whispers among the members of the caravan.

“Has it left? Are we safe?”

“It looked like it was made of shadow… was the light too much for it?”

Jack was not nearly so foolishly optimistic, and neither apparently was Jam.

“Hold the line,” Jam spoke over the whisperers, “It will be back if we leave it an opening. But it won’t try with that tail again while we can put a spear up its ass.”

But Jack wasn’t so sure. His thoughts returned to that question of how it would respond to this new status quo. So far it had alternated between stealth and direct assault, changing tactics as one approach failed or encountered obstacles. They had just hindered its stealth.

“Jam?” Jack approached the man and leaned close to keep his words low, “If that thing set upon us from within the spear-wall… How would we fare with your people’s cards?”

“If it somehow managed to get within the line? With the light, we’d manage, even if we’d lose a few. But that won’t happen,” Jam answered.

“And without the light?” Jack pressed, unable to keep his voice from breaking with the question.

“The point of a spearwall is generally to keep it between yourself and the beasty, take that away and…” Jam looked away rather than finish, “If Stroph were awake we’d have a chance. Without him... but it won’t come to that. If we can see it, we can keep it at bay, and the lantern will be enough,” he finally replied.

‘Bravado is less reassuring when it comes with caveats.’

If the pattern of behaviour the creature had exhibited so far continued, they were about to receive a direct attack.

It had crept into the darkness to reposition itself. The same tactic it had used initially against Lekub, leveraging its stealth into a devastating physical strike with no chance of reprisal.

‘It isn’t natural. Its behaviours, strategies were designed for a purpose. Regular animals might seem designed but that’s just people misinterpreting natural processes.

Shaped are as smart as their creators—or as stupid. Half of what handlers do is make sure their charges don’t kill themselves accidentally. So think like you’re the creator of a terrifying shadow murder-beast, ok? Good. Don’t try to find obvious flaws, they won’t be there. Find the drawbacks, the half-measures. Where did I compromise when I made you?’

When it had been made, combat viable cards would have been more common. It would have hunted soldiers, other war-beasts that presented a credible threat, or civilians.

Its first move had been a killing strike against a sentry. That failed, as if he’d had armor. So it switched strategies, used an attack that can get under armor, around it. That approach keeps working until they’d prevented it by placing the lantern. What came next?

‘I’m the designer of a shaped meant for stealth, it’s frighteningly capable in darkness. But significant light breaks its stealth; campfires, dawn, etc. In those circumstances it can’t accomplish much without being killed, that’s just wasting a resource, so I’ve trained it to retreat,’ Jack ran through the problem in his head, carefully tracing through the logic to arrive at a relieving conclusion.

‘It seems too easy… A single source of light keeping it at bay. That’s a flaw in design. If it’s just a single point of light, imagine how easy it would be to extingui-’

"Dim the lantern," Jack said quietly at first, but then continued with increasing panic. "Douse the lantern Jam! It will come for it!"

Jam looked at him and Jack saw his jaw clench. He wasn't going to listen. He'd demand an explanation when they had no time.

Without waiting for the tangle of words and explanations that would see them all dead, Jack acted.

Vital Flow. Pivot.

He stepped up to Jam and reached for the heavy lantern with his left hand.

Jam jerked it away, growing angry and confused at Jack's persistence.

But that movement left the lantern exposed to his real effort. When he'd stepped forward, he'd reached his right hand back behind him, and now, using Pivot, he rotated faster than Jam could react. He slapped the sturdy lantern with his open hand, knocking it from Jam's grip to the ground.

His hand throbbed with pain, suppressed for now as he desperately made his next move. He lunged for the fallen light and managed to hook the handle with his fingertips. With the last moments of Pivot he spun himself, releasing the lantern to send it flying in a high arc over the heads of the defenders.

The light rose, and as it arced the illumination stretched to the furthest corners of the clearing.

From his new position on the ground, Jack looked up and saw a shadow positioned above them.

Atop Jam’s cart, well past the defences they’d organized, crouched the creature.

He watched as tension rippled through its body in a fraction of second, and in a burst of motion it sprang from its perch, setting the heavy cart rocking back with the force of its jump.

At that moment he knew what would come next. A creature of ruin would fall upon them, from a past uncaring of the monsters they made, and they would be undone.

But then rather than land upon them, he watched as a shadow soared up and over their heads, clearing the spears, until it passed beyond the tilt of his neck.

When he managed to set his gaze upon it once more he was struck by the sight.

Flux oil pooled aflame around the shattered remnants of the lantern, providing the light a flickering, unsettling quality. Atop the fire stood the creature, bathed in the heat of the flame, seemingly unbothered. It lowered itself to the ground, smothering the fire with its body, grinding into the earth to suffocate the fire. It systematically moved between lit patches, stifling them in instants before moving on.

Highlighted by the fires, Jack had his first clear look at it. It was lithely muscled, with a long, sleek form. Its head was pure predator: forward facing eyes set deep within protective ridges of skull; an elongated toothy jaw, crowded with natural weapons. It had long limbs, moving gracefully until they didn’t, snapping into unnatural bends around unexpected joints. It twisted in ways he knew it shouldn’t. It unsettled him to look at it for too long, the disappearance of the fire was almost a relief.

With what the light revealed he knew throwing the lantern had saved them. Rather than plunging into their midst, it had followed what it considered the true threat presented to it: the light. They had bought time. Its caution would undoubtedly return them to the previous state of attrition, losing people to its tail but avoiding the immediate catastrophe of its assault.

‘If it figures out we’re civilians it will just tear through us. If we can't find a true counter, we’re doomed.’

It finally managed to stifle the last of the fire, and in the settling darkness, Jack saw something familiar.

Its perfect black body was showing flaws. Around where it had smothered the fire, where the heat had been strongest, the depth of shadow had turned to grey.

Even while he watched Jack could see the effect fading, the black encroaching on the altered skin until it evaporated into nothing. But he knew now what he was seeing, what gave the creature such affinity for the darkness.

That shift to grey was the same shade his nightblacks became when they were left alone, without his body heat to restore their light absorbing property.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

But he knew the source of the hide that made up his and others nightblacks. The Blackhide amblers that produced it were docile, kept by breeders for the unique property of their leather and not good for much else. Clearly the trait had been duplicated across shaped lines in the old world.

Fire and heat clearly wouldn't break the ability for long, the creature's resilience to flame showed that. But going the opposite direction, that had a chance. The nightblacks always took a long while to adjust when they were exposed to the cold, Jack had learned to keep them bundled away after a night exposed to a coldsnap had left them grey and useless for hours. If the same was true here, they could render it visible and turn the tide. With their spears tracking it, harrying it, it could be cornered. It could be killed.

Jack was distracted while he came to this realization, and didn't register Jam's hostile approach until he was slammed against the ground.

"You've doomed us, you fool." Jam's voice was a harsh whisper, and Jack saw a wild fury in his eyes that unsettled.

"Would you rather it took your hand off along with the lantern? Killed a few of those in the centre as well?" Jack challenged him unflinching, staring him down until recognition settled into Jam’s face, and with a grimace he released his grip.

A quiet desperation had settled into the camp. There was nothing for them to do. The light at least had a chance of offering defense, providing a sense of security that Jack had revealed as an illusion.

The eyes of the defenders refused to settle, moving from shadow to shadow. The way they avoided one another’s gaze, but still glanced back sparingly to the fallen, it was clear their hearts were becoming fragile.

"If I can make it visible, could you fend it off?" Jack asked before he had a complete plan, knowing that letting despair settle into the group would be as sure an end as any.

“What makes you think you can manage that?” Jam’s voice was still bitter.

“I knew it would follow the lantern didn’t I?”

‘A good guess is as good as knowing if you’re alive at the end,’ he thought.

Jam eyed him skeptically but answered nonetheless, "If you can bring that thing into sight, we can send it off."

That received a few clacks in reply as spears were knocked and the spear carriers murmured support. They knew their skill, if they only had a less slippery target.

However, Jam came close to Jack then and pitched his voice low, "Tell me honest lad. There's space enough in my cart for a few to live. If you have any doubts, tell me now and I'll put the youngest in there, that will include you. Better a few may live."

Jack felt no temptation at the prospect. He imagined himself peering out in the morning to a clearing filled with the dead and knew that survival would mean little to him then. But he wouldn't speak with false bravado either.

"It might not work. But if we hope to succeed we'll need everyone we have left, and trying to save a few won't come without cost. This is an umbrar coming for us, they don't release prey happily."

Jack had spoken aloud the truth they all feared but hoped against. No lineage of card-shaped were the same, and umbrars were more than just a single line with known attributes. It described all those that had been built with an affinity for darkness, a base urge for killing, and a lust for cruelty. They were terror weapons unlike the assorted war-shaped of old. Most war-shaped had been made for battlefields, and so had some connection to humans—they needed to be controllable in proximity to allies. But umbrars of all kinds held no allegiances beyond the suffering they loved to inflict.

Jam's face fell at Jack's words, but he had one final question, "If I told you to forget your effort and ordered you to the cart what would you do?"

"I'd ignore you, and try anyway..." Jack's voice didn't tremble; until, at last, it did, "...and likely fail."

Jam gave him an evaluating look, and whatever he found left in his eyes a growing respect.

"Alright then la-" he cut himself off, "Alright Jack. Tell us what you need."

First, he needed to buy time.

‘I’m the shaped—or umbrar, rather—creator again, hello me. How do I buy time against an umbrar?

Well I don’t. It’s a merciless harbinger of death, any delays are antithetical to that purpose, I’ve specifically designed it so that doesn’t happen,’ Jack shook his head—unhelpful line of thinking.

‘Try again. Umbrar, likes death? No, something being dead isn’t a stimulus, that’s an outcome. What it likes is killing. But it’s more than that, it likes a particular kind of killing. It likes discord and cries of pain and screaming.

It’s a weapon of terror, but how do I teach it to be terrifying? How do I teach it to torture, to leave the maimed for the living to encounter later? Fear needs to be diverse, strategies need to develop organically between generations. What makes it want to learn, to experiment? Enjoying the stimulus.’

With that he had a plan.

He told Jam to reorganize the defenders. They needed to swipe their spears occasionally over the ground, and keep themselves moving unpredictably. They needed to slow down their rate of attrition, to ensure the umbrar worked for its prey. To prevent it from getting frustrated, they needed to make it enjoy itself.

"Have everyone pretend to cry—really wail. If it thinks we're suffering and hopeless it will drag this out."

It wasn’t entirely absurd, there were stories of umbrar playing with their victims for hours if given the opportunity, utterly enraptured by their screams.

Jam gave him a look, "that deception is closer to true than many will feel comfortable with."

"Then they should give a decent performance," Jack answered bluntly.

Jam looked like he wanted to object, but ultimately held his reservations in check. Instead, he merely went from group to group, leaving everyone wailing openly after his explanation—some with an uncomfortable sincerity.

Jack was beginning to see the flaw in his plan that Jam had predicted. He'd opened the floodgates for the pent up fear and despair that had been building through them, right when he needed them to be at their most resilient.

"We're going to kill you, you stupid beast!" Jack raised his voice as loud as he could, but injected within it every ounce of despair he could.

"We're smarter than you, stronger than you, and we've got you figured out," he moaned into the silence that followed his first declaration.

"I will personally make a pair of slippers out of you! Perhaps a decorative throw-rug! Alas! You're so damn ugly, you will ruin the parlor!" this, a sob.

A few outright laughs at that, swiftly adapted into sobs of their own.

Then exactly what he needed came from a woman at the front line, "I wonder what it tastes like?!" a screech filled with pain and horror to set every listener on edge.

The rest of them picked up the game, and what could have been a quick pace to a rout became a rallying cry as more shouts out of hell rose up with increasingly absurd propositions for the ultimate fate of what beset them.

Those preparations done, Jack set his mind to the true goal. They needed to chill the umbrar to the point its camouflage failed. The immediate impossibility of the task daunted him.

'Break the problem into parts. First part, you need to get something cold,' he thought.

"Whoever has the strongest thermal manipulation cards, come to me!" he shouted to the group.

One of the defenders hurried over, leaving the line looking more than a little threadbare. However, their efforts to slow the umbrar’s efforts seemed to be working; there had been no more collapses so far. One of the interior members came as well. A quick interrogation revealed the limitations of their cards.

Jack remembered seeing both of them involved in the preparation of the evening meal, their cards were used to heat and chill food. Their cards could shift heat from one source to another at a steady rate, at an extremely limited range. Living things were immune, but also most materials. Cooling the entire clearing wouldn't be possible, neither would super-chilling objects in the hopes of piercing the creature with a frozen arrow or spear. He had hoped that all reasonable expectations would be dashed and one of them would have had a powerful effect, but he wasn't surprised to learn their limitations. Now it was a matter of making due.

"How cold can you get water?" he asked.

"We can bring it 'til it freezes, but it doesn't go past that. Just as we can bring a pot to boil, but not any further," the older of the two replied.

Jack shook his head, that wouldn't be enough. Considering how the umbrar had shrugged off fire he would be deeply surprised if near freezing water would be enough to disable it. It almost certainly was adapted to withstand icy rain, the utility in hunting under those conditions would be too great to leave such an obvious flaw. If only they could go colder! A thought struck him.

"Sometimes you cool food down for storage right? To preserve it for the next day?" he asked suddenly.

"Aye… we'll freeze a pot of soup so as to keep from bothering with it 'til the next evenin'," they looked at each other confused.

"You use a heat-sink right? A barrel of water perhaps?"

They confirmed it.

"When the water level is low, about the same as the food you're trying to save, does the water ever come to a boil?"

"Of course! It's a hassle and a half! You only make that mistake once before you make sure the barrel is full."

That was exactly what Jack needed to hear. If what he suspected was true, they weren't bringing the food to freezing temperature, they were cooling it to the point it froze.

Water with salt didn’t freeze at the same point as pure water. It needed to be significantly colder before it would finally crystallize. The salty meals they made would dump more heat trying to freeze than a low water barrel could take, and stymie the whole process by bringing it to a boil. The limits on their cards weren't fixed to the temperature of water, but to state changes.

Heavily salted water didn’t freeze until twenty degrees below regular freezing. That would be cold enough to disable the umbrar’s camouflage. They would be able to track it, keep massed spears between it and any of them.

They would become the hunters.