Lucian was on his way back to his team when he heard them.

Not footsteps exactly—more like the crunch of dead leaves under careful boots, the kind of careful that meant they knew someone might be listening. He stopped mid-stride, didn’t even breathe, and let his presence fold into the shadows like a coat he’d worn a thousand times before.

Two figures emerged from between the trees.

They wore hunter gear—dark jackets with reinforced stitching, utility belts with pouches and sheaths, boots that cost more than a month of rent. But Lucian knew they weren’t hunters without even pulling up their stats. Real hunters carried themselves a certain way, a quiet discipline that came from answering to someone else, from following rules and reporting to superiors. These two moved like they answered to nothing but their own hunger.

The first one was a man built like a fridge, wide and thick, with a shaved head and a scar that cut through his left eyebrow like a river through a canyon. He carried a sawed-off shotgun in one hand and a machete in the other, both modified with silver inlays that caught the dying sunlight.

The second one was leaner, faster, with pale eyes that darted around the woods like a bird watching for snakes. She had twin daggers strapped to her thighs and a crossbow slung across her back. Her fingers never stopped moving, tapping against her belt like she was counting seconds.

Lucian pulled out his phone, slow and silent, and took a picture through a gap in the leaves. Then another. Then a third, just to be sure. He sent them to Alistair with a single line of text: Found company. Not hunters.

He watched them pass. The big one sniffed the air once, twice, like a dog catching something strange, but Lucian had already masked his scent using a cheap trick he’d learned from Derek—a small vial of odorless powder that clung to clothes and confused supernatural noses. The man grunted and kept walking.

They were headed toward the cemetery. Same direction as the other rogues.

Lucian waited until their footsteps faded, then checked his phone.

Alistair’s reply came a few minutes later, a wall of text that loaded in fragments because the signal in Millfield was garbage.

That’s Voss. Full name Miranda Voss. Former Ashen Guard, discharged seven years ago for excessive force and collusion with black market dealers. She leads a crew called the Bone Harvesters—five members total, all ex-Guard or seasoned mercenaries. Voss specializes in monster traps and ambush tactics. Her silver hand isn’t just a prosthetic; it’s a weapon. She can channel spiritual energy through it to create shockwaves. Her right hand is still human, so she’ll favor that for fine work and use the silver one for finishing blows.

Lucian read it twice, memorizing.

The big one you saw is Gunnar. Ex-military, no supernatural gifts, but he’s resistant to pain and fear. The lean one is Mira. She’s a blood tracker, like Sera, but less refined—she needs fresh wounds to lock onto a target. The other two are brothers, Kai and Finn. Twin revenant hunters. They work as a pair and don’t talk much. All of them are wanted by the Ashen Guard for various crimes. If you can capture them, do it.

Lucian’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

But—and Alistair’s next message came through in all caps, which meant he was serious—YOUR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE IS THE GLIMMERTONGUE. The rogues are secondary. Don’t lose sight of why you’re there.

Lucian typed back: Understood. What’s the engagement rule if they find the creature first?

Alistair’s response was immediate. Contain them. Don’t kill them unless you have no choice. The Guard wants Voss alive for interrogation. She has an artifact that she stole from us years ago and we want it back.

Another pause. Then: I’ve already sent for the rest of Ashen Dawn. They’ll meet you at the cemetery entrance in fifteen minutes. Don’t start anything before they arrive.

Lucian pocketed the phone and looked toward the trees where the rogues had disappeared.

Fifteen minutes. That was longer than he liked, especially with five hostile hunters hunting the same prey he was hunting. But Alistair was right—the Glimmertongue came first. Capture the creature, secure the town, then worry about the Bone Harvesters. One problem at a time.

He started moving again, not toward his team, but toward the cemetery, keeping to the shadows, staying downwind. He’d get there first, find a vantage point, and wait. Watch the rogues make their move. Then, when Cora and the others arrived, they’d have the advantage.

He just hoped Voss didn’t find the creature before then.

Because if she did, priorities would shift real fast.

Somewhere in the town

"As if a Glimmertongue isn’t bad enough," Cora muttered, shoving her phone back into her jacket pocket, "now we’ve got rogue hunters breathing down our necks. This night just keeps getting better."

They were walking fast, not quite running, through the back streets of Millfield, following the route Lucian had sent them. The sun had dipped below the treeline now, and the town was that awkward shade of grey where shadows looked like people and every alley felt like a mouth waiting to swallow them.

Derek was clutching his staff so hard his knuckles had gone white. "My first real mission and I’m going to die. That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine. I’ve made peace with it."

"You haven’t made peace with anything," Sera said, not looking up from her crossbow as she loaded a bolt. "You’ve been muttering about dying since we left the van."

"Because we’re walking into a cemetery at dusk to fight a monster that mimics voices while a gang of ex-Guard mercenaries tries to steal it out from under us. Name one part of that sentence that doesn’t sound like a horror movie opening."

Mason adjusted his gauntlets, his face unreadable in the fading light. "The part where we win."

Cora snorted. "Optimistic. I like it."

"I’m not being optimistic. I’m being practical. We’ve trained for this. Lucian’s already scouted the area and identified the target. The rogues don’t know we’re here. We have the element of surprise."

"And a ghost," Derek added, then winced. "Sorry. I didn’t mean—"

Dr. Blackwood’s voice drifted through the air, thin and dry as old paper. "He’s not wrong. You do have a ghost. Arguably the most distinguished member of this group."

"We’re not arguing that," Sera said. "We’re never arguing that. Please don’t make us argue that." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

They turned onto a gravel path that led toward the cemetery gates, visible now as a dark iron archway beneath a cluster of ancient oaks. No lights. No movement. Just the rustle of dead leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

Cora slowed her pace, holding up a hand. "Everyone quiet for a second."

They stopped. Listened.

Nothing. Which was exactly the problem. A town this size, even one with a monster problem, should have had some noise—a dog barking, a car engine, a television from an open window. But Millfield was silent, the kind of silence that sat on your chest and dared you to breathe too loud.

"Lucian said he’d meet us near the big mausoleum," Cora whispered. "That’s about two hundred meters east of the gate. We stay together, we don’t split up, and if anyone hears a voice they recognize from this team, you ignore it. The Glimmertongue mimics. That’s its whole thing."

"What if we hear Lucian’s voice?" Derek asked.

"Especially if you hear Lucian’s voice. He doesn’t talk enough as it is. If he’s suddenly chatty, it’s not him."

Sera checked the safety on her crossbow. "And the rogues?"

Cora’s jaw tightened. "We focus on the creature first. That’s what Alistair said. Capture it, secure it, then deal with Voss and her crew. But if they get in our way, we don’t hesitate."

Mason cracked his neck. "Finally. Something simple."

"Nothing about this is simple," Cora said, moving toward the gate. "But it is straightforward. Find monster. Catch monster. Don’t die. Let’s go."

They slipped through the iron archway one by one, footsteps muffled by dead grass and fallen leaves, and disappeared into the maze of headstones and shadows.

Somewhere ahead, in the dark, Lucian was waiting.

And somewhere else, in the same dark, five rogues were about to learn they weren’t the only hunters in Millfield tonight.