The days passed.
There were no attacks. Only a tense, unnatural calm... as if the problems were being held back at the edge of an abyss on the verge of collapsing.
Then, one night, something moved.
A group of leopard beastmen climbed the slopes with absolute precision. Darkness was their natural ally; the wind, their accomplice. Every step was calculated, every breath measured so as not to disturb the air currents. It was as though they were invisible: they left no trace behind, making them theoretically impossible to detect.
Twenty entered.
They dispersed among the rocks and undergrowth, slipping like shadows trained through generations of stealth and hunting.
Soon there were nineteen, and they didn't even realize it. All their concentration was focused on remaining undetected. No one stopped. Not a single word was spoken.
Another one... simply ceased to be.
There was no sound. Not even the slightest hint of a struggle.
They kept moving.
Eighteen. Seventeen.
They advanced confidently through the shadows, believing themselves invisible, unaware that they were disappearing one by one. Something was taking them from the darkness. Without haste. They were creatures that had evolved to remain unseen, but they were not accustomed to becoming prey.
By the time they were close enough to the human settlement to see the first torchlights... fewer than half remained. Their mission was simple: enter, observe, return, and report without raising the slightest suspicion. Their stealth remained perfect, flawless.
But they failed to notice the true danger.
A denser shadow, darkness itself devouring darkness.
Five remained.
Then three.
Then two.
The last one in line was Rhaek.
He didn't realize it immediately. He moved a few more steps with the agility that defined him, eventually reaching a strategic elevation from which he could see the settlement in its entirety.
Light. Movement. Human life.
He raised his hand and gave the tactical signal to regroup.
He waited.
Nothing.
The absolute silence of the mountain was the only response.
Rhaek frowned. He slowly turned in place, scanning the undergrowth.
Where are those idiots? he thought irritably.
There were no tracks. No bodies. Not a single drop of blood on the grass.
Only the empty night and the darkness.
Then...
He felt it.
A primal shiver traveled down his spine; his predator instincts triggered every alarm at once. It was as though something cold and immeasurable had occupied the place where the world had once existed.
He reacted purely on instinct and spun around.
But it was already too late.
The ground disappeared beneath him.
He didn't see the attack or hear even the slightest disturbance in the air. He only felt a sudden, devouring pressure...
And then there was nothing in his legs.
Pain exploded a second later.
Fear consumed him brutally, and his scream shattered the stillness of the night. His hands desperately searched for something to hold onto, but found only damp, loose soil.
When he raised his head, he found a pair of yellow eyes staring directly at him.
Eyes wide, motionless, gleaming in the middle of the darkness.
And surrounding that gaze, there was only an abyss.
The night itself seemed to fold around those eyes, as though it belonged to them by right.
Rhaek tried to crawl backward.
He tried to scream again.
But the sound died, choked in his throat.
Then he understood with terrifying clarity.
This had never been a hunt.
It never had been.
Ur'Khaal had not been defeated in an ordinary battle.
He had been devoured...
And they had made the fatal mistake of following his trail.
They had walked straight into the jaws of something that should never have been disturbed.
The yellow eyes blinked calmly.
Gradually, a face began to take shape from the void, followed by a body.
There was no hatred in that gaze.
Only absolute indifference.
Dainslein and the tide of darkness surrounding him descended upon Rhaek, and Rhaek ceased to exist.
The following day, none of the twenty returned.
Among the leopard tribe, dawn arrived with apparent normality. Hunters from the smaller patrols returned with their night's prey; patrols resumed their usual routes, warriors took their positions along the palisades, and the cubs played near their mothers.
Except for the vanguard squad.
No one was alarmed at first. Infiltration missions often took longer than expected; sometimes scouts disappeared for days, even entire weeks if they needed to conduct an extensive search.
"They know what they're doing," remarked an elder of the council, dismissing the initial doubts.
The sun climbed to its zenith and then descended again.
Night returned to the savanna.
And there was not the slightest sign of the twenty.
On the second day, questions began circulating in hushed voices.
By the third...
the nature of the silence had changed completely.
There were no signs of combat. No marks on the trees. Not a single story to tell, nor the slightest information about their whereabouts.
They had simply vanished into the mountain.
"Ur'Khaal cursed us from beyond the grave," a female whispered, clutching her cub.
"No," replied a veteran beside her, his voice barely audible. "Something killed Ur'Khaal."
The notion spread like fire through dry straw.
Fear began taking root within the clan: perhaps the entire mountain was cursed.
But one contradiction tormented them.
Why had the humans, despite being such weak creatures, put down roots there and survived without difficulty?
What was really happening in the peaks?
Who—or what—had the ability to erase twenty of their finest scouts without leaving a single trace?
Something in the balance of the region had changed irreversibly.
Inside the great tent of the leopard council, no leader raised their voice.
There was no need.
The weight of uncertainty filled every corner of the enclosure.
Something terrible was happening on that mountain, and they all knew they would have to discover what it was before the darkness decided to descend upon the savanna.