Early afternoon bathed the land in golden light. Sunlight danced upon the winding rivers, turning rushing water into ribbons of liquid gold that embraced the bustling town below. Laughter drifted up from Bear Path's streets, where neighbors traded cheerful greetings as freely as goods. Trees swayed in the rustling wind, their leaves whispering secrets to the warm breeze.

  But as the sun smiled over the valley, the Tall Forest refused every ray of light. There, in the Sunless Depth, eternal night reigned.

  And in that darkness, the Night King stood like a catastrophic mountain, looking down at his guest.

  Kuro remained frozen, trembling. A smile—terrified but excited—twisted his features. He bent slowly, retrieved his fallen hat from the forest floor, and placed it back on his head.

  His hands shook.

  He forced himself to look up. To see the high beast in its full, terrible glory.

  The creature's face was dominated by a matte-black beak—not the elegant curve of hawk or eagle, but the brutal, straight-edged geometry of a siege weapon. Calcified slate carved into a wedge, serrated with sawteeth designed to rend flesh from bone. Its eyes were deep obsidian pools, each iris a gemstone of ocean blue surrounding pitch-black pupils that reflected nothing.

  It was a creature of impossible majesty—a colossal avian terror bearing four vast wings.

  The upper pair blazed with the deep sapphire of ocean depths, feathers catching what little light existed and transforming it into something otherworldly. The lower wings were wreathed in midnight black, their bases bristling with cruel, blade-like spikes that jutted forth like a hunter's arsenal. Each spike gleamed with surgical sharpness.

  Its legs were pillars of corded muscle, built to shatter stone with each thunderous landing. Its tail swept behind like a smith's hammer given flight—heavy, purposeful, devastating.

  Most unsettling were the bone spurs that crowned its silhouette: serrated ridges protruding from both sides of its neck like a living collar of daggers. Similar protrusions extended from the outer edges of its primary wings—nature's own weaponry grafted onto an already fearsome form.

  This was Morvane.

  The Night King.

  The high beast began to walk, circling slowly. Its face remained turned toward Kuro, never breaking eye contact. Each step vibrated through the earth like a war drum.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Kuro watched, frozen. Only his pupils moved, tracking the creature's deliberate path. His curse mark throbbed rapidly against his skin—frantic, insistent—then suddenly went silent.

  He released a shaking breath.

  Can I kill it?

  The question hung in his mind.

  ...Yes.

  His hand shot to Mosvmora's handle. He moved like a bullet, closing the distance in a heartbeat, sword swinging toward Morvane's exposed flank—

  Slash.

  His blade cut nothing.

  The beast was gone.

  Kuro's eyes went wide. He spun, darting his gaze frantically across the clearing. Morvane had vanished—simply ceased to exist in that space—despite being impossibly massive.

  Where the fuck did it go?

  That massive body couldn't just disappear. He could see clearly in this darkness, far better than any normal human. I could see—clearly—in this darkness. When did that happen? Whatever. He used his enhanced vision to pierce shadows that should have been impenetrable.

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  Am I seeing things? Is it an illusion?

  .......…..........

  His body screamed at him: Move or die.

  Kuro threw himself forward.

  Morvane's beak crashed down exactly where he'd been standing, the impact cratering the earth with devastating force. Debris exploded outward in a shockwave of dirt and shattered stone.

  Kuro rolled through the blast, came up in a crouch, and spun to face the beast.

  Morvane pulled its head back from the debris, turning to look at him with that same clinical curiosity.

  Bastard. Kuro's jaw clenched, visible irritation warring with fear. How fast is he? Shit...

  He raised his voice, shouting into the gloom: "You! Are you the bird who brought me to this world? Huh?" His sword came up defensively. "Trying to act dumb? You were talking shit in my head before—why aren't you speaking now?"

  His eyes never stopped moving. Opening. Find an opening to strike.

  Morvane tilted its head like a curious chicken, studying him.

  Why is he looking at me like that? Kuro's mind raced. Is it not the same bird? Or is he playing around?

  He raised Mosvmora, pointing the blade directly at the creature. Questions filled his head, none of them answered.

  Morvane spread its first pair of wings—the dominant sapphire pair.

  Whoosh.

  It vanished without a trace.

  Kuro jerked around, searching frantically.

  How the fuck is it moving like that? His thoughts came rapid-fire, desperate. With that massive body? Without making any sound? And it's only been flying with two wings!

  His military training catalogued the impossibility: mass, velocity, air displacement—all of it defied physics.

  So that's how a high-ranking high beast works. Defying the laws themselves.

  He forced himself to think tactically. Fenric's ears would be helpful now. But no point thinking that. Fucking bird, where are you? Stop playing hide and seek and come out!

  Suddenly, cold flooded down his spine.

  His eyes went wide.

  A massive presence materialized behind him—close enough to feel the displacement of air, to smell the scent of old blood and ancient feathers.

  A dark silhouette rose like a reaper come to collect its due.

  BOOM.

  The beak struck like thunder.

  This time, Kuro didn't have time to evade.

  Blood sprayed.

  Kuro flew backward like an arrow loosed from a bow, his body slamming into one of the enormous trees. The impact cracked the trunk—a sound like splitting timber—and he slid down, leaving a crimson smear across ancient bark.

  He hit the ground hard, spitting blood. Using Mosvmora as a cane, he struggled upright, body shaking.

  The injury wasn't serious. He'd gotten the sword up at the last second, blocking the worst of the impact.

  Dizziness swamped him. His vision tripled—three Morvanes approaching slowly through the gloom. Then they collapsed into one.

  The beast's blue eye glowed in the darkness, terrifying and beautiful.

  Kuro's pain began to fade. He straightened, forcing his body to obey. "Fuck."

  He blinked.

  The beast was gone.

  He blinked again.

  The beast was in his face.

  Kuro dodged right. Morvane stopped before hitting the tree—perfect control despite its momentum—and vanished again.

  It appeared before him. Kuro raised his sword, deflecting the impact.

  Back and forth. Strike and counter. Appear and vanish.

  The pattern repeated continuously without break, filling the clearing with smoke and dust. Kuro was already exhausted, his body beginning to tear under the relentless assault. Blood spilled freely, drenching his clothes, turning the dark fabric darker.

  The smoke faded.

  Kuro stood alone in the center of the clearing, looking like a corpse on its feet. His clothes were torn and red. Morvane was nowhere to be seen.

  After a moment, his legs gave out.

  He fell backward, Mosvmora still clutched in his grip. Slowly, his fingers began to loosen.

  "Wh-what's happening?" His voice came in gasps. "I knew it would be hard, but this?..." He laughed—a wet, bitter sound. "Did killing the King get to my head?"

  He breathed heavily, exhausted and bloodied.

  "Fucking bird." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "At least tell me why you brought me here. I know you can hear me. Answer."

  Silence.

  "Damn you, bird."

  Morvane emerged from directly above where Kuro's head lay. It loomed like a colossal monument to death, looking down at the broken human beneath it.

  Slowly, deliberately, it opened its mouth.

  Descending.

  "Hungry, huh?" Kuro's voice was low, watery with blood. "Sigh... fuck this. I don't see a way to kill it. I..."

  He caught himself.

  If only Ella was here... maybe...

  Anger flared through the exhaustion. What am I thinking? Since when did I expect help?

  He gritted his teeth, fury building. "Fucking curse! Heal me already!"

  The words tore from his throat in a scream as inevitable death descended.

  SNAP.

  Dead Silence.

  Morvane's eyes widened. Its mouth—opened wide enough to swallow a man whole—closed on empty air.

  Nothing. No blood. No bone. No scream.

  The beast straightened slowly, confused for the first time since the hunt began.

  There—

  Kuro stood ten feet away, sword raised, blood stopped mid-flow. His injuries were healing before Morvane's eyes, flesh knitting together, bones realigning with soft clicks.

  Kuro wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "About time," he whispered.

  The curse mark on his arm blazed with brilliant light. The bluish-grey veins pulsed with power, spreading veins further across his shoulder, reaching toward his chest like roots seeking water.

  Kuro's eyes—no longer pale with shock—had gone completely black. Obsidian pools with ashen strips, reflecting Morvane's own gaze back at it.

  He smiled.

  A real smile this time. Not terrified. Not excited.

  Hunting.

  Morvane tilted its head, considering this development, and vanished.

  The forest went silent.

  Even the eternal darkness seemed to hold its breath.