The morning sun felt wrong on Jez's skin, like an ill-fitting coat she couldn't shrug off. She ignored it, focusing instead on the merchant trying to haggle down the price of her services. Three children missing, tracks that ended in blood and silence - the usual desperate scenario that brought people to monster hunters like Jez.

"Three children missing," the merchant said, clutching his money pouch. "Surely that merits some charitable consideration?"

"Surely it merits proper payment for proper work." Jez crossed her arms and leaned against the tavern wall, letting her scars show in the sunlight. The one running from temple to jaw usually made an impression. "Unless you'd prefer to handle it yourself?"

The merchant glanced at the woods beyond the village of Maven. Something had left tracks there last night - tracks that ended in blood and silence. "The town council can offer thirty silver."

"Fifty. Plus expenses." Jez didn't bother to hide her smile as the merchant flinched. "The scars? Each one's a lesson learned. You're not paying for the hunt. You're paying for the fact that I'm still alive to do it."

A child's cry echoed from the village. The merchant's face tightened. "Forty-five. No expenses."

"Forty-five, plus blood money if I have to deliver bad news about those children." Jez straightened, fighting a sudden wave of dizziness. The sun was getting to her today, for some reason. "Do we have a deal?"

The merchant frowned and nodded tightly. Jez took the offered coins, weighing the purse in her hand. "Tell me about the tracks."

"Like nothing we've seen. Deep prints, but wrong somehow. And the blood..." He swallowed hard. "The blood looks black in sunlight."

Jez's head throbbed. Probably from the sun. She'd been getting headaches all week, but a job was a job. "Show me."

The tracks started at the wood's edge - massive prints that made her hunter's instincts twitch. Not natural. Not entirely solid either, judging by the impression depth. Something that moved between states, maybe. A Mistling, if she was lucky. A Shadow Hound if she wasn't.

"Any survivors?" she asked, professional interest overriding the merchant's obvious discomfort. "Anyone see it clearly?"

"One. Baker's boy. Still hasn't spoken."

"Take me to him."

"He's... not well."

Jez jingled the coin purse meaningfully. "Then this is what we call an expense."

The baker's boy sat in shadow, rocking slightly. His eyes were wide, glazed. Classic signs of shock. Jez had seen it before in survivors. Had caused it occasionally, though that wasn't something she advertised. The embers from the hut’s fireplace cast soft shadows in the modest room.

"Kid." She crouched before him, keeping her voice calm and to the point. No point getting emotional about clients, no matter how small. "Need you to focus. The thing you saw. Solid or shifting?»

«What?» His eyes snapped to hers. "Both. Neither. It... I don’t know. It was nowhere, then it was there.»

"Good. That's good." It wasn't, but praise often got better results than sympathy. "Color?"

"D-dark. But with lights."

«Lights?»

«It’s eyes. They were like fire.»

Jez nodded, ignoring another wave of dizziness. Shadow Hound then. Nasty piece of work, but manageable if you knew the tricks. She'd seen one two years ago near Steel Heart. Nearly died learning how to kill it. A few other hunters did.

"Right." She stood, swaying slightly as the sun hit her eyes. "I'll need bait."

The merchant paled. "We can't..."

"Meat will do. Freshly killed. And I need to work before dark. These things are worst at sunset."

"You've... seen one before?"

"Killed one before." Jez touched the scar on her shoulder. "Though this headache might make things interesting."

The woods grew thicker as Jez followed the trail, branches weaving together overhead. She welcomed the dimness, her headache easing as sunlight filtered into more manageable shadows. The fresh meat in her pack left a blood trail that even an amateur could follow. Good thing she wasn't hunting amateurs.

Something moved in her peripheral vision - a shimmer like stars seen underwater. Shadow Hound, right on schedule. They never could resist fresh blood.

Except...

Jez froze, professional instincts screaming. The movement was wrong. Shadow Hounds flowed like liquid shadows. This thing *dragged* itself through space, leaving tears in reality that healed slowly behind it.

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Not a Hound. Something older. Hungrier.

"Well," she muttered, unslinging Death's Kiss from her back, the massive blade holding a surprisingly comfortable weight in her hands. "This just got more expensive."

The blade hummed in her hands, eager as always for violence. She'd taken it from a vampire lord in the Northlands two years ago, and it remained the finest weapon she'd ever stolen. Almost worth the three days of almost dying it had cost her.

The thing in the shadows moved again, blinking in and out from existence. Jez's head snapped toward the motion before her brain registered hearing it. Weird. Her senses didn't usually work that fast.

Must be the adrenaline.

She drew the blade and waited, letting her quarry circle. Professional patience. Professional distance. No matter that her heart was suddenly hammering with something that felt more like hunger than fear. Beads of sweat started to collect on her forehead, even in the brisk evening breeze.

It struck from behind, because of course it did. Jez rolled, coming up in a guard position that felt smoother than it should have. The creature towered over her, a mass of twisted shadows and wrong angles that hurt the eye. Jez didn’t reckognize the creature other than that it was definitely not a Shadow Hound, nor a Mistling.

"Right," she said, falling into a fighting stance. "Let's make this quick. My head’s been pounding all day and I need some fucking sleep."

The thing lunged. Jez moved without thinking, faster than she'd ever moved before. Death's Kiss sang through the air, tasting shadow-flesh and finding it solid enough to bite. Black blood sprayed as the creature growled in surprise. It wasn’t used to weapons being able to hurt it. The scent hit her like a physical blow. Her head snapped back, nostrils flaring, every sense suddenly knife-sharp. The blood smelled like... like...

The creature's claws raked her side while she was distracted. Jez snarled - actually snarled, what was that about? - and struck back. Death's Kiss moved like an extension of her arm, finding gaps in the thing's twisted form that she shouldn't have been able to see.

More black blood. More of that scent that made her head spin. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she pressed the attack, moving with impossible speed and grace. Everything felt sharp, immediate. Like her senses had finally woken up after years of sleep. Jez was just as much a weapon as her greatsword at this point.

The fight became a dance. Jez moved through shadows that should have been impenetrable, seeing every shift in the creature's form, hearing every tear it made in reality. Her blood sang with the joy of the hunt, with the thrill of being the most dangerous thing in these woods.

When it was over, she stood panting over the creature's dissolving corpse, black blood dripping from her blade. Her hands shook with adrenaline. Had to be adrenaline. Certainly not hunger. Definitely not a reaction to that blood scent that still filled her nose, that made her want to...

"Professional pride," she muttered, wiping her blade clean. "Professional distance. Professional... whatever."

She gathered proof of the kill - they always wanted proof - and tried very hard not to think about how much she'd enjoyed that fight. About how right it had felt, moving like that. Hunting like that. She was exhausted, yet as vigor as she’d ever been.

The sun was setting as she headed back to the village. Good. Her headache was all but gone. Everything was fine.

Professional hunters didn't worry about little things like moving faster than humanly possible. Or suddenly being able to see in the absence of light. Or the way blood suddenly smelled like...

"Payment first," she said firmly to herself. "Existential crisis later."

She had standards to maintain, after all.

The merchant blanched at the twisted piece of shadow-stuff Jez dropped on his table. It still smoked faintly, eating away at the wood beneath it.

"Proof of kill," Jez said flatly. "Plus expenses." She dropped an itemized list next to the dissolving evidence. Her handwriting was precise, professional. Everything accounted for, right down to the blood-bait.

"This... this isn't what you described before..."

"Change of plans. Change of price." Jez leaned forward, ignoring how the tavern's candles suddenly seemed too bright. "Not a Shadow Hound. Some sort of plane shifter. Much nastier. Much more expensive."

"We agreed on forty-five silver!"

"We agreed on forty-five for a Hound. This?" She gestured at the smoking remains. "This is going to cost you gold. Unless you'd like me to leave the rest of its pack for your next market day?"

"There's a pack?"

"Could be." Jez shrugged. Professional hunters never revealed everything they knew. Especially when they were lying. It wouldn’t hurt the villagers to be more cautious, anyway. "It’s your risk to take.»

The merchant's shoulders slumped. He reached for a deeper pocket in his robes. "How much?"

"Ten gold. Plus the original forty-five silver. I suspect some imperial collector may want to pay for a piece of this if you act before it dissolves." She held up a hand as he started to protest. "That includes my silence about the three missing children. The ones who weren't taken by any monster. The ones who ran away after catching someone skimming from temple donations."

The merchant froze. "How did you..."

"Keen observation." Actually, she'd overheard two villagers gossiping while she prepared for the hunt. Her hearing was getting unnaturally sharp lately. Another detail to ignore. "I'm sure they'll turn up in the next town. Unless you'd prefer I keep looking?"

Money changed hands quickly after that. Jez pocketed it without counting - she'd heard the exact number of coins by weight and sound. Yet another new trick she was choosing not to think about. Could be the adrenaline of the hunt.

"Pleasure doing business," she said, standing. Too quickly, it seemed - her vision swam for a moment, the tavern's candles blazing like suns. "I'll see myself out."

"Wait!" The merchant's voice dropped. "There are... other problems. Other towns. If you're available..."

"I'm not." Jez headed for the door, keeping her stride even through sheer willpower. "Got a championship bout coming up in Steel Heart. Much better money in the arena. And I’ll know my opponent beforehand.»

"But---"

"Try the Hunters' Guild. Tell them Jez sent you. They'll probably only charge double my rate."

Outside, the night air hit her like a blessing. Her headache was gone, replaced by a clarity that made every sound, every scent stand out in sharp relief. She could hear heartbeats from the tavern behind her, smell fear-sweat and beer and blood...

"Professional distance," she muttered, turning toward the road to Steel Heart. "Professional... ah, hells."

Her hands were shaking again. Not from adrenaline this time - the fight was hours ago. From hunger. But not for food. For...

"Championship bout," she said firmly. "Focus on that. Everything else is just... battle fatigue. Or something."

She touched the wound in her side where the creature had clawed her. The one that should have taken weeks to heal. The one that was already gone.

"Definitely something," she muttered, and headed east, toward Steel Heart's famous arena. Toward bright lights and roaring crowds and absolutely no need to think about why everything suddenly felt so different.

Professional hunters didn't worry about little details like impossible healing. Or supernatural senses. Or the way their teeth ached when they smelled blood.

Professional hunters just got the job done.

Everything else was someone else's problem.