Night settled over MistHaven.
Rain tapped softly against the castle windows while torchlight flickered across the council chamber.
The broken black arrowhead rested at the center of the table.
No one touched it. Even lying motionless — it felt *wrong.*
Chrono's eyes remained fixed on it. "It isn't ordinary metal."
General Rowan frowned. "You recognize it?"
Chrono slowly shook his head. "No." "But I recognize the mana."
He reached toward the arrowhead once more. The moment his fingers brushed its surface — a faint pulse spread through the room. Cold. Heavy. Unlike demonic mana. Unlike human mana.
It felt *artificial.*
Chrono immediately released it. "…Interesting."
---
King Aldren leaned forward. "What did you feel?"
Chrono searched for the right words. "It wasn't trying to overwhelm me." "It was…" He frowned. "…following instructions."
The room fell silent.
Lin broke the silence first. "Mana can do that?"
Chrono nodded slowly. "If someone understands mana well enough…" "…they can leave commands inside it."
Vael crossed his arms. "So whoever made this…" "…wanted it to do something."
"Exactly."
---
Garron stepped closer to the table. "We recovered dozens of them." "Every village that fell…" "…had these nearby."
General Rowan looked toward him. "Did they kill anyone?"
"No." "They were always found afterward."
Chrono's eyes narrowed. "So they weren't weapons."
Everyone turned toward him.
"They were *markers.*"
---
Captain Rowan frowned. "Markers?"
Chrono pointed toward the map of the Beastkin territory. "The attacks didn't happen randomly." He marked each destroyed village — one by one. A pattern slowly appeared.
The villages formed a widening circle. Not around a fortress. Not around a city.
*Around a mountain range.*
Lin noticed first. "…They're surrounding something."
Chrono nodded. "Or preventing anyone from reaching it."
---
The chamber doors suddenly opened. A scout hurried inside, breathing heavily. "Your Majesty!" He dropped to one knee. "We've received another report."
King Aldren stood immediately. "Speak."
"The eastern watchtower spotted movement." "What kind of movement?"
The scout swallowed. "…Not beasts." "People."
The room stiffened. "How many?"
"…Hundreds."
General Rowan's hand immediately rested on his sword. "An army?"
The scout slowly shook his head. "No…" "…Refugees."
---
A heavy silence followed.
King Aldren looked toward Garron. "More Beastkin?"
Garron closed his eyes. "…Then another tribe has fallen."
No one spoke. No one needed to.
The Beast Shepherd wasn't destroying villages one by one anymore. *He was driving entire races from their homeland.*
---
Far beyond MistHaven, deep within the eastern wilderness, the Beast Shepherd stood before a cliff overlooking an endless sea of trees.
Behind him — thousands of glowing eyes watched silently from the darkness. Wolves. Dire Bears. Horned Boars. Monsters. Creatures that should never have marched together.
The shapeshifter emerged from the shadows. "MistHaven accepted the refugees."
The Beast Shepherd nodded once. "As expected." "They're investigating the arrowheads."
A faint smile appeared beneath the hood. "They're looking at the pieces." He slowly looked toward the distant mountains. "They haven't realized…" "…they were never the objective."
Behind him, the forest trembled. Something enormous shifted beneath the earth.
The Beast Shepherd quietly whispered, "*Soon.*"
The mountain answered with a deep, distant rumble — as though something buried beneath it had heard his voice.
---
The eastern gate opened before dawn.
A second refugee caravan slowly entered MistHaven. Unlike the first — this one barely resembled an organized retreat.
The wagons were broken. Many were pulled by exhausted oxen instead of horses. Several wounded Beastkin walked beside them, refusing to ride despite obvious injuries. The silence surrounding them was heavier than any battlefield.
*No one had the strength to speak.*
---
MistHaven's soldiers immediately began helping the newcomers. Water was distributed. The wounded were carried toward the infirmary. Children were escorted inside the city walls.
Garron watched quietly. His fists tightened. Another tribe. Another home — *gone.*
---
Chrono stood near the gate, observing every arrival. Most carried only what they could hold. Blankets. Family heirlooms. Old weapons. Nothing suggested they had planned to leave.
They had fled.
One elderly eagle Beastkin suddenly stumbled. Chrono caught him before he collapsed.
The old warrior smiled weakly. "…Thank you."
His golden eyes lingered on Chrono. "You aren't from this age…"
Chrono froze — only for an instant.
Before he could ask what the old man meant, the elder laughed softly. "I meant…" "You think differently than everyone else."
Chrono remained silent.
The old warrior's smile widened. "Don't worry." "Old soldiers notice strange things."
---
Later that afternoon, the council reconvened.
This time, the black arrowhead rested beside a freshly drawn map. Chrono had marked every destroyed Beastkin settlement. The pattern was becoming clearer.
King Aldren studied the map. "Whatever they're searching for…" "…it's somewhere within these mountains."
General Rowan frowned. "Then we should send scouts."
Chrono slowly shook his head. "They're expecting that." "Every village they destroyed became another warning." "They want everyone to stay away."
Lin crossed her arms. "Then what do we do?"
Chrono answered quietly. "We ask who lives there."
---
Garron stepped forward. "There is only one place." He pointed toward the center of the mountains. "*The Skyfang Highlands.*"
The room fell silent.
King Aldren looked at him. "What's there?"
Garron hesitated. "Nothing." "…At least…" "That's what we've always believed."
The answer only deepened the mystery.
---
Far away, beyond the eastern forests, the Beast Shepherd stood upon a cliff overlooking the mountains.
The shapeshifter appeared behind him. "They've found the pattern." "They'll investigate."
The Beast Shepherd didn't turn. "Good." "They've reached the first door."
The shapeshifter looked toward the distant peaks. "And the second?"
The Beast Shepherd slowly raised one hand. Black mist drifted into the sky.
"The second door…" "…opens today."
---
Deep beneath the *Skyfang Highlands* — darkness ruled.
Ancient stone pillars stretched endlessly beneath the mountain. Dust covered everything. No wind had disturbed the chamber for centuries.
Then — a single black arrowhead embedded in the floor began to *glow.*
One. Then another. Hundreds. Thousands.
The symbols carved across the chamber walls lit one after another like stars awakening in the night. A low vibration echoed through the underground halls. The earth itself trembled. Stone cracked.
Something enormous shifted behind a sealed gate.
Not fully awake. *Not yet.*
But *breathing.*
For the first time in countless ages — a deep heartbeat echoed beneath the mountains.
*THUMP.*
Silence returned.
Far above, birds exploded into the sky in frightened flocks. Animals fled the forests. Even the monsters stopped moving.
The Beast Shepherd closed his eyes. A faint smile appeared beneath his hood.
"It remembers."
---
At the same moment — hundreds of kilometers away — inside the Dwarven Kingdom of *Khazruk* — the Sacred Ember flickered violently.
Every forge within the mountain dimmed for a single heartbeat.
Master Borin slowly looked toward the eastern horizon. His weathered face lost all color.
"No…" he whispered. "It can't be…"
For the first time in his long life — the old dwarf dropped his hammer. The sound echoed through the silent forge.
He had felt that presence before. Not in this lifetime. But in the stories passed down by every High Forge Master.
*The stories they prayed would never become reality again.*