The Azure Sirens' encampment occupied a strategic depression flanked by glacial ridges—a natural fortress requiring minimal guards. Samuel, their bear-like commander, emerged from the command tent, his scar-lattice arms crossed in appraisal.
"Father!" Hannah bounded forward, oblivious to the veterans' stifled chuckles.
"Steel Rose," Samuel corrected gruffly, though his eyes softened. His gaze swept over Kael's celestial-marked staff and Amelia's concealed blade. "Welcome, travelers. Mistveil's teeth sharpen daily—we'll trade knowledge for steel."
The mercenaries' initial wariness thawed as Finn regaled them with embellished tales of the Shadowstalker skirmish. By the third tankard of mulled wine, even Owen grudgingly acknowledged their prowess.
"Your glamours hold," Samuel murmured later by the firepit, startling Kael. "But no disguise masks celestial fire. Why seek the Lion King?"
Amelia's blade hovered at his throat before he blinked.
"Peace, knight." Samuel raised calloused palms. "The Goldenhorn's a diversion. What stirs beneath Cataclysm's Maw concerns us all."
Kael's Frostvein core chimed in agreement. The Dusk Shard's whisper cut through campfire crackle: Hasten.
Hannah's presence radiated through the camp like sunlight piercing Mistveil's gloom. Veterans straightened as she passed, gruff faces softening into smiles. "Steel Rose!" they called, some offering trinkets—a carved wolf fang, a ribbon from distant markets. Her laughter, warm and unguarded, thawed the forest's chill.
Samuel's command tent housed a crackling firepit where shadows danced across maps etched with crimson markers. Owen deposited an iron cauldron bubbling with sinewy cuts of rockbear meat—a fifth-tier beast's flesh notorious for its iron tang.
"Feast like true forest walkers!" Samuel boomed, passing leather wineskins. The brew within burned like liquid embers, masking the meat's gaminess.
Finn tore into his portion with theatrical relish. "Ambrosia compared to academy gruel!"
Amelia ate with measured bites, her glamoured visage hiding distaste. Kael noted Samuel's scrutiny—the团长's fingers lingered near his axe throughout the meal.
"Your aim, travelers?" Samuel finally probed. "The Lion King's pelt? Or deeper quarry?"
Kael met his gaze. "Knowledge. And worthy challenges."
Samuel's chuckle rumbled. "Challenges abound. The Obsidian Brotherhood's heir brings fifty mercenaries. Frostspire's lordling commands ice wraiths. All chasing the Goldenhorn's glory—and Lady Joanna's hand."
Finn perked up. "The beauty's worth the bloodshed?"
"Her dowry includes mineral rights to three volcanic veins," Samuel said drily. "But the true prize..." He tapped the map's northwestern edge where the Frostvein core in Kael's pack hummed. "...lies where dead men walk."
Samuel unfolded a weathered parchment, its edges singed from countless campfires. "This map charts paths even the forest spirits forgot." His calloused finger traced crimson ink marking the Goldenhorn Lion King's territory—a jagged crescent northwest of their position.
Amelia's disguised voice cut through the tent's smoky haze. "Your price for this knowledge?"
The团长's grin revealed a missing canine. "Escort us to the Obsidian Veil—a mineral-rich gorge three days north. Beyond that..." His shrug spoke of horrors even seasoned mercenaries avoided.
Kael studied the map's meticulous notations—ambush hotspots marked with fang symbols, frostbloom groves circled in blue. "We'll guard your caravan until the Veil."
Samuel slapped the table, rattling tankards. "Done! Rest tonight. We march at first light."
As the camp settled into watch rotations, Kael noted the Frostvein core's vibrations syncing with the map's northwestern marker. The Dusk Shard's whispers crescendoed, no longer urging haste but demanding arrival.
Samuel's roar cut through the campfire ballads. "Arm up! The forest spills its guts for us tonight!"
Scouts had stumbled upon a beast den two kilometers east—a charnel pit brimming with frost-rimed carcasses. Fourth-tier icewolves lay stacked like cordwood, their mana cores intact.
Finn whistled. "A slaughterhouse. What butchered these?"
"Something hungrier," Amelia murmured, her blade already drawn.
The Sirens mobilized with predatory efficiency. Veterans checked crossbow winches while mage-hunters slathered blades in necroticbane oil. Hannah strapped on segmented gauntlets, her earlier cheer replaced by grim focus.
Samuel tossed Kael a flask of liquid fire. "For the cores that twitch."
The den reeked of congealed blood and spoiled magic. Moonlight filtering through the canopy revealed a hollowed-out sequoia, its insides clawed into a cavernous nest. Dozens of beasts lay in disarray—some missing heads, others hollowed from within.
"No claw marks," Owen observed, kicking a snowlynx carcass. "Eviscerated by spellwork. Or worse."
Kael's Frostvein core hummed as he knelt beside a bisected rockbear. The cut was surgical—a single strike fusing ice and shadow.
Amelia traced the wound's edge. "Blade or claw didn't make this."
A low growl rippled through the clearing. The Sirens froze as a shadow detached from the tree line—a hulking silhouette with eyes like smoldering coals.
"Ambush!" Samuel bellowed.