The dawn over the Sanctum Vale came slow and deliberate, like a master painter adding the final strokes to a canvas. Wisps of gold seeped into the deep violet of night, and the air was cool enough to sting in the lungs.
Kanzi sat cross-legged on a flat rock, his bow resting across his knees. Before him lay a cloth-lined tray of arrows, each in varying stages of readiness. He worked in silence, checking the balance of each shaft, ensuring the fletching was secure, smoothing the wood with deliberate care. Serenya had taught him that a hunter's first mistake was thinking the hunt began in the field — it began here, before the quarry even knew your name.
"You're binding the feathers too tightly," Serenya said from behind him.
Kanzi adjusted his grip without looking up. "They'll loosen in the damp."
"They'll also drag your aim left if you twist the spine." She stepped forward, her own bow slung across her back, and knelt beside him. Her fingers moved with a precision that was almost unnatural, correcting the flaw in a heartbeat. "Small mistakes invite large failures. Remember that."
He nodded, watching the motion, committing it to memory.
When the last arrow was set into his quiver, Serenya handed him a small clay jar. "Scent mask. Rub it into your hands, arms, and neck."
The smell hit him instantly — sharp and bitter, like crushed pine needles and river mud.
"You said the Ashfang hunts by sight," Kanzi said, coating his skin with the paste.
"It does," Serenya replied, "but you prepare for the senses it doesn't use often, too. You cover every path it might take to find you."
Behind them, Kael approached, his footfalls so silent they barely disturbed the grass. In one hand he carried a short-bladed knife, its steel a deep, smoky gray.
"This isn't for the kill," Kael said, offering the weapon. "This is for when the kill fails."
Kanzi took it, feeling the balance, the way the weight pulled slightly toward the tip.
Kael's gaze locked onto his. "You will not fight it as I would fight it. You are not ready for that. You will fight it as you are now — with what you have, what you know. Do not reach for strength you have not yet earned."
Kanzi swallowed, nodding. "Understood."
They set out together, though Serenya and Kael trailed behind far enough that they melted into the Vale's strange foliage. This was his hunt, his test, but they would be close enough to end it if things went badly.
The path north was marked by pale stone ridges and gnarled trees whose roots wound above the earth like the spines of buried giants. Kanzi moved in silence, each step placed with care, bow in hand but string relaxed. He listened — to the wind's direction, the distant trickle of water, the shift of leaves in the canopy.
The Ashfang's territory was near the Vale's edge, where the ground darkened and the air carried a faint, metallic tang. The last time he had seen it — from the ridge with Kael — it had been little more than a shadow in motion. Today, that shadow would be close enough to smell his breath.
The world narrowed to sound, scent, and shadow.
Kanzi moved along the ridge, keeping low, scanning the terrain for sign. The Ashfang was no ordinary predator — it was a ghost in the wild, its steps silent, its presence often unnoticed until teeth closed around a throat. But it left signs for those who knew how to read them.
The first was a claw mark along the side of a tree trunk, the grooves deep and deliberate. Kanzi traced one with a fingertip. The edges were sharp, not weathered. "Less than a day," he thought.
Next, the ground told its own story: a faint scorch mark where grass had withered to ash, the soil beneath still warm. He knelt, brushing his fingers over the brittle black blades. The beast's fire aspect bled into the earth wherever it lingered too long.
A sound — faint, like the rustle of cloth — made him freeze. He slid behind a jut of stone, lowering his profile. Ahead, a smaller predator prowled through the undergrowth — something like a lynx, but with scales along its back and a single black horn jutting from its brow.
The beast paused, sniffing the air. Kanzi held his breath, shifting his weight slowly to avoid snapping a twig. It moved on, disinterested, but the encounter left his heartbeat quickened. Out here, there was no safety.
He pressed onward, guided by subtle cues — the bend of grass, the smell of faint smoke, the unnatural stillness in certain pockets of the forest. And then, he saw it.
The Ashfang lay half in shadow near a shallow pool, lapping at the water. Even at rest, its presence seemed to hum in the air, each breath slow and measured. Its fur rippled, dark smoke curling from its flanks. The ember-glow of its eyes reflected in the water like molten gold.
Kanzi's training came back in fragments:
Core's at the base of the neck. Hide thickest along the shoulders. Joints vulnerable. Watch the tail — whip-strike can break bone.
He eased an arrow from his quiver, nocking it without a sound. The wind was in his favor, drifting from the beast toward him.
He sank into a crouch, drawing the bowstring back until it pressed against his cheek. His breath slowed. His heartbeat seemed to echo in his ears.
And then — the Ashfang's head lifted.
The beast's eyes locked directly onto him.
It didn't roar. It didn't lunge. It simply stared, as if weighing his worth. Then, without warning, it moved — a blur of shadow and flame, covering half the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Kanzi loosed the arrow. It struck the Ashfang high in the shoulder, sinking deep but not reaching the core. The beast snarled, the sound like burning wood splitting in a fire.
He rolled aside as it closed the distance, its jaws snapping where his head had been. His hand found the next arrow, nocking and releasing in one motion. This one hit lower, grazing the neck but missing the vital point.
The Ashfang pivoted, tail whipping. The impact caught Kanzi in the ribs, sending him sprawling across the dirt. His bow skidded away.
Pain flared, but training took over. He drew the knife Kael had given him, crouching low as the beast circled. The heat radiating from its body was intense, the air shimmering around it.
It lunged again, jaws wide. Kanzi dropped under the bite, slashing upward along the exposed throat. The blade bit deep, and a burst of searing-hot blood splattered across his arm.
The Ashfang roared in pain, staggering. Kanzi dove for his bow, grabbing it in a smooth motion. One last arrow — his only chance.
He drew, aimed for the point just beneath the skull where the core would be, and released.
The arrow struck true.
The beast convulsed once, then collapsed, the ember-light fading from its eyes. The air around it cooled, and the faint hum of its mana presence dissipated into the Vale.
For a long moment, Kanzi stood there, chest heaving, the knife still in his grip. Then Serenya emerged from the shadows, her bow unstrung, eyes scanning the scene.
"You hesitated on your first shot," she said, though there was no anger in her tone.
"I thought I had more time," Kanzi admitted, wiping the blade clean on the grass.
"You never do," Kael's voice came from behind him. He strode forward, crouching beside the fallen Ashfang. With practiced ease, he cut into the base of the neck, extracting a pulsing mana core — a sphere of deep crimson light. He tossed it to Kanzi.
Kanzi caught it, feeling the faint vibration in his palm. "It's… warm."
"It will be, for another few hours," Kael said. "That warmth is the echo of its life. Remember it. The moment it's gone, so is everything it was."
They harvested the meat and hide, moving with the efficiency of those who had done this countless times. By the time they started back toward their camp, the sun had dipped lower, streaking the Vale in shades of amber and rose.
That night, as the firelight danced across his face, Kanzi turned the mana core over in his hands. It was more than a trophy — it was proof. Proof that he could stand before something meant to kill him and walk away alive.
But Kael's final words before sleep stayed with him:
"This was the smallest of the predators you will face. If you wish to leave this place, you must be ready for much worse."