Morning sunlight washed over the valley, warm and gentle.
It looked like any other day.
It felt like a lie.
Elowen stood at the garden's edge with her sleeves rolled up.
Dirt clung to her palms.
Her heartbeat was still too fast.
She kept glancing at the treeline.
The forest stood calm.
Too calm.
Eldra Hearthveil knelt beside the herb beds, trying to act normal.
She hummed as she worked—
but the tune wavered.
It had cracks in it.
"Your hands are shaking," Elowen murmured.
"So are yours," Eldra answered.
They shared a look.
Neither pretended after that.
Elowen sank her fingers into the soil.
The earth pulsed faintly—
not the peaceful hum she'd grown up with.
Something tighter.
Unsettled.
Like a deep creature holding its breath.
She swallowed.
"Did you hear another horn last night?" she asked quietly.
Eldra's shoulders stiffened.
"No. But the guards at South Path lit a second torch."
Elowen inhaled sharply.
Second torch meant: threat confirmed.
"So it's real," she whispered.
"It's close," Eldra corrected.
The wind shifted.
The scent of herbs filled the air—mint, sage, a hint of rosemary.
Under that: something sharper.
Metallic.
Wrong.
Elowen brushed dirt from a seedling leaf.
She tried to calm her breathing.
"Thalor thinks I need to understand what happens when the raids come."
Eldra froze mid-movement.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"He took you to Neris," she guessed.
Elowen nodded.
Eldra exhaled, slow and pained.
"That woman survived hell."
Elowen dug her nails into the soil.
"I felt it."
Eldra's eyes softened with sympathy.
"That is why I feared he'd take you. Your gift… feels too much."
Elowen didn't answer.
She didn't know how.
The memories she absorbed from Neris still clung to the sides of her skull—cold stone floors, collars too tight, breath she didn't consent to…
She blinked fast.
Eldra placed a gentle hand on her wrist.
"You're trembling again."
"I don't want to become that," Elowen whispered.
"Someone's warmth toy."
"You won't," Eldra murmured.
But her eyes flickered—
and in that flicker was fear.
For a moment neither of them moved.
The air became too still.
A rustle broke the quiet.
A young boy darted through the rows, chasing a wooden hoop.
His laughter echoed.
The innocence hurt.
He had no idea how fragile their lives were.
How thin the valley's safety had become.
A large shadow fell over them.
Thalor Rootwhisper approached with his staff in hand.
His presence calmed her air and tightened her spine at the same time.
"You feel it too," Elowen said.
Thalor didn't deny it.
He instead looked at the sky, at the edges of the forest, at the wind that refused to behave.
"The wilds haven't spoken all morning," he said.
Eldra stiffened.
"No birds?"
"No insects. No rustle."
Elowen swallowed.
"That means something's coming."
"It always means something's watching," Thalor corrected.
He crouched by the herb bed and pressed a palm to the soil.
The earth thrummed faintly beneath his hand.
"Shallow tremors," he muttered.
"Something large crossed the northern ridge at dawn."
Elowen clenched her jaw.
"Beastmen?"
"Yes."
Her chest tightened.
"How many?"
Thalor lifted his gaze to hers.
"Enough."
That was worse than a number.
Enough to raid.
Enough to chain.
Enough to fill dens.
Eldra rose quickly, wiping dirt on her skirts.
"We should warn the others—"
"No," Thalor said calmly.
"Not yet. Panic will do more damage than claws."
A cold weight settled in Elowen's stomach.
Panic might cause chaos.
But silence—
silence was compliance.
"They need to know," she argued.
"They will," Thalor said.
"When the signs turn from whispers to commands."
Elowen wanted to shout.
She wanted to grab him and shake the calm off him.
"People are going to die if we pretend everything is fine."
Thalor placed his hand on her shoulder.
His voice dropped, low and steady.
"And people will die faster if they act like prey."
His words sank deep.
Painfully true.
He turned to Eldra.
"You said the South Path torches doubled?"
"Yes."
Thalor exhaled.
"Then the scouts will return by midday. We will know more."
He tapped his staff twice on the ground.
Eldra flinched.
Elowen felt her pulse spike.
Two taps signaled brace.
Three taps signaled run.
They weren't at run yet.
But they were at brace.
A child shrieked with laughter nearby.
A jarring sound against the quiet tension.
Thalor motioned for Elowen to follow him down the path.
"Walk."
She followed, heart pounding.
"Are the raids always the same?" she asked.
"No."
"But the dens—"
"Not all beastmen keep human pets," he interrupted.
"But many do."
The wind shifted.
A low hum pulsed under her feet again.
"Why?" she whispered.
She hated the word before it left her mouth.
"Why do they want humans?"
Thalor didn't stop walking.
"Warmth."
The word tasted like ash.
"That can't be all," she pressed.
"It isn't."
He tapped his staff against a root.
"You saw part of it in Neris's memories. They hunger for obedience. For softness. For dominance over something that can't fight back."
Elowen's breath hitched.
"So it's instinct."
"It is instinct," Thalor agreed.
"And culture. And boredom. And pride. And cruelty."
His voice was quiet but edged.
"You must understand their wants if you face them."
Her hands curled into fists.
"I don't want to understand them."
"You must," he repeated.
She hated how right he was.
They reached the northern fence.
A hunter waited there—
Torin Grayjaw, a wide-shouldered man with a scar across his cheek.
His expression was tight.
Too tight.
"They're close," he said.
"Tracks on the moss beds. Big tracks."
Thalor's jaw flexed.
"How many?"
Torin hesitated.
"That's the problem."
Elowen's pulse quickened.
"What do you mean?"
Torin pointed to the trail of flattened moss.
"No weight pattern. No stagger. No drag. No stride. No… nothing human."
Elowen leaned in.
The tracks were large—
but precise.
Too precise.
As if a giant had stepped from the trees with deliberate care not to break anything more than necessary.
"They moved quietly," Torin said.
"Too quietly for scouts. Too heavy for rogues."
Thalor inhaled sharply.
"Pack leaders."
Elowen's stomach dropped.
"Pack leaders don't raid villages," she whispered.
"No," Thalor said.
"They claim."
Torin looked pale.
"What would they want here? We have no mines. No wealth. No—"
His eyes flicked to Elowen.
Thalor stepped between them.
"Enough."
But the look was already there.
Unspoken.
Heavy.
Elowen felt the meaning pierce her through the heart.
They didn't need mines.
They didn't need wealth.
They wanted bodies.
Warmth.
Night-slaves.
Soft-throated girls who could be taken and kept.
She stared at the tracks.
Cold dread spread through her.
"They're scouting for dens," she whispered.
Her voice shook.
She didn't care.
Thalor didn't deny it.
Torin cursed under his breath.
"We need to send a warning."
"We will," Thalor said.
"But not yet."
Elowen rounded on him.
"When? When we see their torches? When the chains are already around our wrists?"
Thalor didn't raise his voice.
He didn't move.
"Speak quietly," he said.
She forced her breath to slow.
"You told me empathy can be a weapon," she said.
"Well right now it feels like a curse."
"It is both," Thalor answered.
"Which makes it powerful."
"How does that help me if they chain me?"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"They will not chain you."
Something in his tone—
dark
certain
terrified of losing her—
made her step back.
Before she could answer, a horn sounded.
Not far.
Not distant.
Not imagined.
Close.
Too close.
Torin's face went white.
"That's the north ridge."
Voices rose from the village.
Shouts.
Questions.
Screams starting.
Elowen's mouth went dry.
"Thalor…" she whispered.
He placed his hand on her back and pushed firmly but not harshly.
"Go. Find Eldra. Bring the children into the root cellar."
"What about you?"
"I hold the gate."
Her chest tightened.
"You can't fight a pack leader."
"No," he said softly.
"But I can slow him."
Elowen hesitated only a second.
Then she ran.
The wind tore at her hair.
The village was no longer pretending.
Torches lit.
Doors slammed.
Mothers screamed names.
The horn sounded again.
Closer.
Hungrier.
Elowen reached the square, breathless.
Eldra met her with two children clinging to her skirts.
"Elowen—what's happening?"
"They're here," Elowen gasped.
"Pack scouts. Raiders. Maybe worse."
Fear split Eldra's composure.
The children cried harder.
A toddler lifted her arms toward Elowen.
Elowen scooped her up.
"We have to go," she said.
"Now. Into the cellar."
A roar rippled across the treeline.
Deep.
Powerful.
Claiming.
The sound froze the entire village.
The children whimpered.
Eldra choked.
"Elowen…" she whispered.
"That was not a normal beastman."
"No," Elowen whispered back.
"That was a pack lord."
The wind carried the scent of fur and steel.
And something else.
Something that felt like chains.
Elowen tightened her hold on the child.
She didn't know if she would be taken.
She didn't know who would die tonight.
She didn't know if Thalor would survive the gate.
But she knew one thing with perfect clarity:
The valley's peace was dead.
And the beasts who killed it were already at the door.
----
Thanks for reading all the way here. This chapter came out heavier than I first planned, but it felt right for the build-up.
If it hit you in any way—confusion, dread, curiosity—tell me in the comments or throw a stone at the book. I really do read what you write there.