By the time the walls of Wastrebugrth came into view, the sun had already begun its slow descent behind the western hills.

  Stone ramparts rose like a dull gray horizon, weathered but unbroken. Smoke curled from chimneys beyond the walls, drifting lazily into the sky. Even from a distance, the city felt alive—faint clamor carried through the wind: metal striking metal, distant voices, the rumble of cart wheels.

  Grey slowed first.

  His ears angled forward, nose lifting slightly as if testing the air. The fur along his spine did not rise—but it did not relax either.

  Red Hood adjusted the straps of her rucksack.

  “We’re close,” she said quietly.

  Grey’s tail flicked once.

  Two guards stood at the iron-bound gate, spears resting upright against their shoulders. Their armor was worn but maintained. They straightened slightly as she approached.

  One of them eyed her from head to toe.

  “What business do you have in this city, little girl?”

  “I have business with the guild.”

  His gaze drifted downward.

  To Grey.

  The second guard shifted his stance.

  “Hm. Before entry, a few questions. Standard procedure. You don’t mind?”

  “No.”

  “Name?”

  “Scarlate.”

  “Age?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Place of origin?”

  “Oto Village.”

  The guard scratched the details onto a wooden slate.

  He paused.

  “Oto Village,” he repeated. “That’s… far.”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded slowly, then tapped the slate with the end of his stylus.

  “Everything checks out.” His eyes returned to the wolf. “That animal. Does it belong to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wild beasts are prohibited within city limits unless properly certified. Otherwise, there’s an additional fee.”

  “How much?”

  “Three silver and six copper.”

  Red Hood reached into her rucksack without hesitation and counted the coins into his hand.

  The guard weighed them briefly before stepping aside.

  “Keep it under control.”

  Grey met his gaze.

  The guard swallowed.

  They passed beneath the gate.

  The city felt smaller than she remembered.

  Years ago, she had walked these streets holding her grandmother’s hand. The market had seemed endless then. Colorful fabrics. Fresh bread. Laughter.

  Now the stone looked older. The buildings closer together. The air heavier.

  Or perhaps she had simply grown.

  Merchants called out their wares from stalls lining the street. A blacksmith hammered glowing iron. Children darted between legs, only to freeze when they noticed Grey.

  Whispers followed her.

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  “Is that a dire wolf?”

  “Why would anyone bring that here?”

  Grey remained calm, moving in silent step beside her.

  She did not hurry.

  The guild building stood near the central square, marked by crossed blades carved above its broad wooden doors. The structure was sturdy rather than ornate. Functional. Solid.

  She stopped before it briefly.

  Then pushed the door open.

  Conversations did not stop entirely.

  They thinned.

  Eyes shifted.

  Not all hostile.

  But all aware.

  A few hands drifted instinctively toward weapon hilts.

  Red Hood walked toward the registration counter without breaking stride.

  A tall woman stood behind it, posture straight, long dark hair tied neatly behind her back.

  “Welcome,” she said with a practiced smile. “My name is Rose. How may I assist you?”

  “I want to register.”

  “Of course.” Rose slid a parchment across the counter. “Please fill this out.”

  Red Hood took the quill and began writing.

  Name. Age. Origin. Combat experience.

  Grey lay down beside her, head resting on his paws.

  The hall remained watchful.

  When she finished, she handed the parchment back.

  Rose read it carefully.

  “Scarlate. Seventeen. Oto Village…” Her brows lifted slightly. “You traveled alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you haven’t formed a contract?”

  “No.”

  Rose’s smile faded into something more professional.

  “I’m afraid under Guild Regulation No. 5, Article 8, applicants without a contract cannot be formally accepted.”

  “Where can I form one?”

  “The Church conducts binding rituals across the street. The cost is minimal.”

  At the word Church—

  Red Hood’s expression did not change.

  But something did.

  A subtle tightening in her gaze. A stillness too sharp.

  Several adventurers shifted uneasily.

  Then the moment passed.

  Rose cleared her throat.

  “You may return after completing the ritual.”

  Before Red Hood could respond—

  The doors burst open.

  Three adventurers staggered inside.

  Armor cracked.

  Cloaks torn.

  Blood darkened their sleeves.

  “Help! She’s losing too much blood!”

  They carried a woman between them.

  Edna.

  Her face was pale. Her breathing shallow and uneven.

  “Clear the way!” someone shouted.

  The hall erupted into motion.

  A healer rushed forward.

  Bootsteps thundered from the upper level.

  The Guild Master descended.

  Sough did not shout.

  He did not need to.

  His presence alone cut through the noise.

  His hair was streaked with grey, tied loosely behind his neck. His coat hung open over reinforced leather armor, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. He looked less like a bureaucrat and more like someone who had once fought at the front.

  “What happened?” he asked calmly.

  “North forest scouting mission,” Dans replied quickly. His jaw was tight. “We responded to reports of abnormal monster activity.”

  “Take her to the infirmary first,” Sough said immediately. “Move.”

  Edna was carried away.

  The doors to the inner corridor slammed shut behind them.

  Sough turned back to Dans.

  “Start from the beginning.”

  Dans exhaled slowly.

  “We found monster corpses near the northern treeline. Torn apart. Not eaten. Just destroyed.”

  “Destroyed how?”

  “Limbs severed. Torsos split open. No feeding marks.”

  Murmurs rippled through the hall.

  Sough remained still.

  “Continue.”

  “We made camp near the treeline,” Dans said. “Edna scouted ahead before dusk. She returned injured.”

  “Injured by?”

  “The thing we encountered.”

  “What thing?”

  Dans hesitated.

  “It wasn’t natural.”

  “Define natural.”

  “Extra jaws,” another party member muttered. “Eyes embedded across its torso. Bone growth in irregular directions. Movement unstable but strong.”

  Silence followed.

  “It didn’t hunt,” Dans added. “It didn’t stalk. It just tore through whatever moved.”

  “You engaged.”

  “Briefly.”

  “And?”

  “We retreated.”

  Sough studied him.

  “You made the right decision.”

  Dans blinked.

  “There’s something else,” Dans said.

  “Before we made camp, we crossed paths with someone on the road.”

  Sough followed his gaze.

  To Red Hood.

  “A girl traveling alone with a dire wolf. Heading toward the city.”

  “What did she say?”

  “We asked if she’d seen anything strange. She said no.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “She didn’t look surprised. Or afraid.”

  Sough’s gaze lingered on Red Hood.

  She stood quietly near the counter.

  Waiting.

  “You suspect her?”

  “No. We just crossed paths.”

  Sough nodded once.

  “Good.”

  He turned toward Red Hood.

  “You wish to register.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have no contract.”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunate timing.”

  “With what’s happening in the northern forest, I’d rather not involve the Church immediately.”

  Murmurs stirred quietly.

  “We’ll conduct the ritual here.”

  Silence followed.

  “If it fails, she goes across the street. If it succeeds, we proceed as usual.”

  “Follow me.”

  ---

  The ritual chamber was small and rarely used.

  Stone floor. Iron braziers along the walls. A shallow circular indentation carved long ago into the ground.

  The air felt cooler here.

  Sough removed his coat and handed it to Dans.

  “Close the doors.”

  They did.

  The noise of the guild faded into distant muffled sound.

  Sough crouched and ran his fingers along the carved circle.

  “It’s been a while.”

  “You still remember the pattern?” Dans asked.

  “I’m not that old.”

  Dans handed him a pouch of chalk.

  Sough began tracing the outer ring carefully, layering fresh white symbols over ancient carvings.

  Rose entered quietly, carrying a shallow bowl of water and a small blade.

  “For the offering.”

  Sough nodded.

  He stepped back once the final arc was complete.

  The circle shimmered faintly under the torchlight.

  “Stand inside,” he said.

  Red Hood stepped forward.

  Grey followed.

  “The wolf stays outside the inner ring.”

  Red Hood placed a hand lightly against Grey’s neck.

  “Wait.”

  Grey obeyed.

  She stepped into the center.

  The air shifted.

  Subtle.

  Like pressure building before a storm.

  Sough crouched at the circle’s edge.

  “This will draw blood,” he said evenly.

  “I know.”

  He extended the blade.

  “This is your last chance to walk to the Church instead.”

  “I’ll do it here.”

  Sough nodded.

  “Then we begin.”

  He reached for her hand—

  —and the flames along the wall flickered.

  Not from wind.

  The chalk lines trembled faintly.

  The ritual had not yet begun.

  But something had already answered.