The chill of the Dravhallow Peaks clung to Kael's skin like a whispered warning as he threaded through the tangled ice-crusted forest. Each breath frosted in the biting air, every step sinking slightly into a frozen bed of brittle leaves and snow. The Essence around him felt heavier here, dense and restless, as if the land itself braced against some unseen force.
Kael's fingers brushed along the ancient stone monoliths scattered among the trees — etched deep with black sigils that pulsed faintly, dark veins of corruption winding between the carvings. The runes weren't just markings; they were something alive, breathing malevolence into the very soil. They hummed with a rhythm that stirred his thoughts, coaxing unease from the corners of his mind.
His eyes narrowed, instincts sharpening. The Varnok had been evolving — their ranks shifting beyond known limits. These sigils were more than decoration; they were catalysts, marking the path of that transformation. Kael crouched low, scanning the frostbitten ground for traces — broken branches, disturbed earth, the faintest residue of Essence corruption. A chill swept over him, deeper than the cold air.
Then, from the corner of his eye, a movement. Subtle, unnatural.
Kael froze.
A hulking shadow loomed behind a fractured tree trunk — broad-shouldered and grotesque, its leathery black skin marked with sigils that glowed faintly red, pulsating with dark power. Its limbs twitched with restrained menace, its maw dripping with corrosive venom. The thing radiated suffocating pressure, an oppressive weight that settled on Kael's chest like a vice, stealing his breath.
The Varnok didn't see him.
Kael's muscles tensed. No time for confrontation.
He slipped backwards, each step measured and silent, until he found cover beneath a ridge. His heart pounded—thunderous drumbeats against the eerie silence of the peaks. Then, with a sudden burst, he pushed off and sprinted down the frozen slope, shards of ice and snow kicking up behind him.
The wind screamed in his ears as he tore through the forest, lungs burning, limbs driven by adrenaline and Essence flow. His thoughts raced: This was no ordinary Varnok. Its presence alone was a threat unlike any other. This was something ancient, something awakened.
As the city of Elandor's lights flickered into view beyond the mountain's edge, Kael's mind hardened with resolve. He would report this immediately. The weight of what he'd seen settled deep.
Kael's body blurred forward, feet barely touching the ground as Lightning surged into his bones. Ice cracked beneath his momentum, trees whipped by his sides as he moved through the frostpath like a flash of silver and violet.
Not a single spell was cast—he needed every flicker of energy for speed and silence. He didn't even glance back.
When he finally slowed, gasping for breath near the outer watch post several miles south, snow slashed across his face and his heart thundered in his ears. A group of patrolling scouts spotted him first and rushed over.
"Kael?! What—?"
"Get me to Commander Lys. Now."
One look at his expression, and they didn't ask questions.
Hours later, Kael stood in the command chamber of Elandor's northern hold. A map of Valeria's fault lines glowed on the crystal screen as Lys leaned in, expression grim.
"You're saying it bore a sigil?"
Kael nodded. "Not just carved. Embedded. Glowing. Breathing. It felt like it was… fused to it."
Lys turned to the other senior adventurers. "No known Varnok type bears runic mutations. This could be artificial. Worse—intentional evolution."
Kael clenched his fists. "I think we're running out of time. Whatever that thing is… it's not a scout. It's a signal."