Later that night, I toss and I turn.

The book doesn’t bleed. Not usually. But as I sit at my small rented room in Greyhaven, lantern-light flickering against the walls, I think of the ink that dripped in the bestiary.

I know magic has rules, even if they bend, even if they break when something stronger decides they should. But this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with the unknown, and it won’t be the last.

I glance at the small desk near my cot. A worn cloth, my spear leaning into the corner with my pack ready to go, half-open with supplies for the morning.

Everything in its place. Controlled.

Unlike whatever it is on the third page of the book.

A faint itch crawls across my forearm. I pull back my sleeve. Three thin, raised lines run along my skin, dark like dried ink, vanishing before my eyes even as I look over them.

Some kind of cursed mark.

I sigh. Not the worst thing that’s happened to me.

The wind howls outside.

Greyhaven is quiet in the dead of night, save for the occasional creak of wood and distant murmur of drunks still clinging to their cups. I roll my shoulders, take another sip from my flask, and settle back against the wall. Sleep won’t come easy, but that’s nothing new. I’ll rest my eyes for an hour, maybe two.

If the book wants to bleed, let it. I no patience for mysteries that refuse to reveal themselves.

Eventually the faintest light dawn comes.

I step out into the cold, spear slung across my back, the damp chill seeping through my cloak.

He stands near the road, arms crossed, shifting from foot to foot. His discomfort is plain.

"You look like a man reconsidering his choices," I say, adjusting the strap of my pack and the spear along with it, the movement is grounding and steadies my nerves.

He sees me and exhales through his nose, arms crossed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I shrug. "No. But I’m doing it anyway."

Hale mutters something under his breath, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin. "I'll take you to the farm. But no further. After that, you're on your own."

I nod. "Fair enough."

Whatever’s out there, it’s bad business." Hale grunts and leads the way.

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We walk in silence, the town shrinking behind us. The air is thick with the damp, muting every sound except our boots against the dirt path. Hale’s eyes scan the treeline constantly, fingers near the hilt of his short sword. I keep my pace even with his, my body relaxed, but instincts are anything but. Something is wrong with this place.

Hale keeps glancing over his shoulder, eventually saying "I don't know what you're hoping to find out here, but you should know, things aren't right out here, even before that boy went missing, never been right. The animals behave oddly, they get scared, skittish. Even the air out here gets hard to breathe. You’d be wise to leave this alone. People weren't meant for living out here on the Demon Frontier."

I grunt in response, letting the conversation die. Warnings won’t change what I have to do. The only way out is through.

By the time we reach the edge of the farmstead, the sun has barely risen past the trees. The farmhouse looms ahead, a squat, weathered structure, its wooden beams dark with age and damp. Beyond it, fields stretch out toward the forest, shrouded in a thin mist that clings stubbornly to the ground.

Hale stops. "This is it."

The barn stands dark, its doors slightly open, creaking. The farmhouse itself is intact, but the shutters hang askew, and the front door is cracked open.

Hale curses. "That wasn't open before."

I study the land, taking in the details. The barn doors are slightly ajar, the fence surrounding the livestock pen shattered in places. The earth is disturbed, but not in any way that suggests a normal predator. No claw marks.

No blood. Just an absence.

Hale clears his throat, uneasy. "I meant it. I'm not staying."

I reach over my shoulder, pulling my spear free. The wraps unravel, falling away to reveal the etched runes along the shaft, their glow pulsing, powerful, unmarred, the mark of a Kingsman.

Hale's eyes look over the weapon, his throat bobbing in a nervous swallow. He’s heard of men like me before, and he knows what we’re capable of.

"I'll be fine," I say, moving the spear in my hands. "Worry about yourself."

Hale doesn’t argue.

I roll my shoulders, exhaling slowly, and step forward.

I motion for Hale to stay back, then ease the door open with the butt of my spear. The hinges groan, revealing a dim interior. Dust floats in the air, disturbed only by the cold draft. A table sits in the center of the room, chairs askew, as if someone had left in a hurry. Dishes sit on the table, half-eaten meals half rotted and untouched.

Something moved through here.

I crouch, running my fingers along the floorboards. The dust is heavy, except for one small section near the hearth where the wood is bare. Not from footsteps, something else disturbed it. Something that doesn’t leave prints.

Hale shifts behind me in the doorway, nervous and glancing about. "See what you needed to?"

"Not yet."

I rise and move toward the back of the house. The bedroom doors are open, the beds empty. No blood, no bodies. Just silence. A gnawing kind that seeps into your bones.

"Damn it," Hale mutters. "We should go."

"You should," I correct. "I’m staying."

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "I don’t like this."

"Neither do I." I shrug. "But running from it won’t change anything."

Hale shakes his head. "Suit yourself. I’m heading back before the mist gets worse."

I nod, stepping past him and out onto the porch. The fog clings heavier now, thick as wool. Hale lingers a moment, watching me, then turns on his heel and quicksteps back toward town.

I let him go.

The farmstead feels abandoned, but I know better.

There’s something out here, something watching. I reach behind me, grasping the wraps of my spear and pulling them loose. The runes flare to life, casting faint light against the mist.

The air shifts.

I am not alone.

A shadow moves beyond the barn, just a flicker of something inhuman. It vanishes as quickly as it came, swallowed by the fog.

I tighten my grip on the spear.

"Come on then," I murmur, stepping forward. "Let’s see what you are."