Jian crouched near the remnants of his fire, fingers brushing the disturbed earth. The night was still, save for the distant whisper of the wind weaving through the trees. Nyx had left, but their words lingered.
"There are forces moving in the shadows, watching your every step."
Jian had known his journey would not go unnoticed, but the precision with which they had tracked him, the effortless way Nyx had countered his attacks—it spoke of something greater than mere coincidence.
Someone was orchestrating events from the dark.
He scanned the area again. His instincts, sharpened by the Wilds, told him no one else remained. Even so, he doused the remaining embers of his fire completely, ensuring no trace of warmth remained. If Nyx had found him this easily, others could, too.
He would not make himself an easy target.
Jian took a deep breath, then slipped into the forest. He needed higher ground—somewhere he could survey the terrain and think without fear of another ambush. His body moved effortlessly, navigating the uneven paths with a fluid grace he hadn't possessed before. Beastwalker's Instincts were already proving invaluable.
Within minutes, he reached a jagged outcrop overlooking the valley below. The moon hung high, casting silver light over the dense expanse of trees. From here, he could see everything—the winding river, the distant glow of settlement fires beyond the ridges.
And something else.
A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision.
Jian narrowed his eyes, focusing. There—beyond the treeline, where the Wilds met open ground. Shadows moved, barely distinguishable from the night itself. Not animals. Not lost travelers. These figures moved with purpose, their motions too calculated to be anything but trained individuals.
His jaw tightened. More of them.
Were they tracking him? Watching? Or were they waiting for something?
His hand instinctively went to his sword. He could strike now, take the fight to them before they had the chance to regroup—but no. Rushing in blind would be a mistake. He needed more information.
With controlled breaths, Jian stilled his presence, blending into the darkness. He would watch. He would listen. And when the time was right, he would strike.
The night was far from over.