I race along broken terrain, returning to Haven with newfound strength.

Wolf-bones fuel each stride, carrying me over scorched fields with an ease I once lacked. Beneath, dragon fragments stir, resentful yet bound to duty’s call.

Smoke from the balverine hamlet still fouls the western sky, a sullen stain above charred ruins. I keep my hollow gaze forward, fixed on Haven’s walls rising in the distance.

Dust moving across these plains, stinging eyes I never had to begin with, a phantom itch reminding me of lost senses regained.

A hollow ache settles in my frame, not from pain, but from the burden of choice. Predator’s instincts mix with guardian’s purpose, conflicting hungers and drives. The bones under my command move with old grudges that once wanted vengeance, but I wrestle them into silence.

I pass fallen markers where smaller battles were fought, scattered weapons rusted into the ground. Memories stir as I sense echoes of those who died here, but I do not pause. Their rest remains unbroken while I guard the living.

Dusk approaches by the time Haven’s walls fill my view. Three years of siege left that stone battered, yet it still rises, survival set amid ruin. Torches flicker along battlements, watchful eyes scanning for threats.

A single horn sounds when the sentries spot my approach. Crossbows lift, soldiers tense, and Commander Ikert strides to her vantage. She grips the edge of fortress, studying my changed frame with narrowed eyes.

I halt beyond the kill zone, raising my free hand in the old knight’s salute. My figure looks monstrous at day's twilight, wolf-skull fused with bone plates, demonic shield strapped to a reworked arm. I see confusion in the guards who expected a familiar skeleton, not monster shape.

Pinpricks of blue-white light flare in my sockets. She remembers that glow, even if everything else has changed. I sense her doubts lessen but not vanish.

The gates do not open. Instead, a single door at ground level groans aside, flanked by wary spearmen. Ikert herself emerges in battered armor, five trusted soldiers at her side. She keeps her distance, sword ready.

I set Aeternus point-down in the soil, a show of peace. Her eyes move over wolf skull and bag at my side. She gestures for her soldiers to hold position.

She speaks low. “You came back more beast than knight. What happened out there?”

I kneel in slow motion, bracing on my sword hilt. My free hand tugs the map scroll from Merik’s bone-sack and lays it on the dirt.

"Open the small gate," she orders. The guards hesitate, hands tight on crossbow triggers. "Now."

Then nods for a soldier to retrieve it. Her knuckles whiten, but she steps closer.

The soldier edges forward, spear balanced awkwardly as he snatches the scroll. His boots scrape stone as he retreats to Ikert's position. She unrolls it, torch-light catching the detailed markings I'd preserved from the balverine den.

My borrowed bones stay motionless as she studies the map. Her expression hardens at each notation, each mark showing monster territories beyond Haven's walls. The torch trembles once in her grip.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Clear the wall," she orders. Guards shuffle back, though crossbows remain trained on my position. Ikert approaches until she stands just beyond Aeternus's reach. "These markings, organized hunting grounds?"

I nod.

"And what else is in there?" She gestures at the bone-sack.

I lift it carefully, bones clicking as I reveal his remains.

I write in the dirt.

Merick. Don't tell the girl.

I watch Commander Ikert's face harden as she processes the contents of the bone-sack. Her hand tightens on her sword hilt, knuckles white against worn leather.

"When?" she asks.

I scratch more words into the dirt: Found in balverine larder. Too close to hear. Hunted scavengers, others. Dead balverines. Burned the hamlet. No traces left.

"Good." She takes a steadying breath. "We'll bury him. Emmy doesn't need to know the details."

I grip Merik's bones tight as compulsion guides my frame. His fragments have an echo, there is a potential. Not meant for burial, meant for more.

I scratch new words in the dirt:.

His bones speak. Could be knight. Choice must be his.

Commander Ikert's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

Like me. But different. No monster parts. Haven needs defenders.

My borrowed bones creak as I shift.

One stays to guard walls. One seeks beyond. His choice.

"You're suggesting, oh." Ikert's voice trails off as understanding dawns. "You want to make him like you?"

I shake my skull.

Not like me. Only one. But similar. Not as a strong. But Haven stronger for it.

His duty never ended. Choice remains his.

Ikert paces, torch casting wild shadows. "And if he refuses?"

Then peace. Proper burial. No force.

The commander stares at the bag containing Merik's remains. Her fingers drum against her sword hilt as she weighs the offer. I wait, patient as only the dead can be, while purpose and practicality war across her features.

Finally an answer. "Do what you can."

She doesn't want to know more.

I rise, bones clicking against armor plate. My wolf-skull dips in acknowledgment. Some details are better left in darkness.

Commander Ikert leads me past the gate, into a cramped side yard where broken wagons and splintered beams lie stacked. A quiet passage skirts the ramparts, winding around Haven’s perimeter. We follow it, flanked by wary guards who keep their distance.

I notice every subtle shift as we walk - hands tightening on spears, crossbow strings pulled taut. The guards cluster around Commander Ikert like moths to flame, their formation tight despite her attempts to wave them back.

"Stand down," she orders again.

The command rings hollow against weathered walls.

A young soldier stumbles, trying to keep both his commander and myself in view. His spear wavers between protecting her and threatening me. The others mirror his uncertainty, creating a moving barrier of steel and flesh between Ikert and my bone frame.

She sighs. "I said-"

"Begging pardon, Commander," an older guard cuts in, "but wouldn't be right. Not safe, we can't lose you to."

Ikert recognizes it too. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't press the point. Better to let them keep their illusion of control than force the issue. Their presence changes nothing about what must be done.

Her boots scrape against loose rubble from collapsed fortifications.

Mine leave no trace.

I carry Merick’s remains, bone-sack cradled in my free arm. Wolf-bones and dragon fragments itch beneath my plate, but I keep their urges silenced.

Now isn’t the time for conflict. We walk until high walls meet open ground.

I lead Commander Ikert and her guards beyond Haven's walls, into the Field of Broken Banners where ancient magic pulses beneath bloody soil. The ground remembers its purpose here, where countless warriors made final stand.

I stop at a spot where broken weapons thrust from the dirt. The soil here feels different, charged with old oaths and final breaths. This is where I first rose, where scattered bones found purpose.

Kneeling, I set Merik's remains on ground that once birthed a guardian. The bone-sack's contents rattle softly as I arrange them with careful precision. Ancient magic stirs beneath my fingers, recognizing kindred sacrifice.

Commander Ikert watches, torch held high. Her guards form a ring around us, spears pointed outward into gathering gloom. They don't understand what this place is, not just a graveyard, but a forge.

I trace runes in the dirt around Merik's bones, patterns I do not remember. g. The ground pulses in response, dark energy seeping through cracks in the earth.

The choice must be his. I reach out with borrowed magic, touching the echo of who Merik was. His bones hold memories of Haven's walls, of Emmy's smile, of stones thrown in fear at a skeletal guardian.

The hollow responds.