Arden's party broke away from Boro's wagons once they reached the heart of Greyhold.

Boro gave them one last nod of thanks before rolling his caravan toward the merchant quarters, while Arden led his group straight toward the Guild hall where their mission had first begun.

The wide doors of the Guild creaked open as they stepped inside. Conversations dimmed, eyes turned, and whispers carried quickly through the room. The masked man, the dual affinity users, and the flame beast, tales of them had already raced faster than the wagons that carried them here. Some watched with awe, others with doubt, but all were curious.

They walked to the reception desk where the same thin-faced clerk sat. His lips pressed into a thin line when he saw them. Arden tilted his head slightly, catching the irritation hidden behind the man's fake smile.

"You're back," the receptionist said flatly, glancing at the papers in front of him. "Alive. Surprising."

Arden leaned an elbow on the counter, his tone casual. "Surprising? Thought you'd already written us off?"

The receptionist cleared his throat, avoiding Arden's gaze. "The mission was… difficult. Not suited for a new party. But you seem to have managed."

"We didn't just manage," Arden said, voice calm but sharp. "We delivered. You'll find the report clean." He slid the stamped parchment across the counter. "Now do your job."

The man stiffened at the bluntness, but he processed the document quickly, his quill scratching across the paper.

After a pause he set down a new set of papers and slid them back. "Your party is now formally registered. Legalized under Guild record."

Arden gave him a small mocking bow. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He turned away before the clerk could answer, and the group walked out together.

Outside, Nyra let out a breath she had been holding. "That man really hates us."

"Good," Arden replied with a grin behind the mask. "Let him. Hate spreads faster than respect. Either way, they'll remember us."

Rael chuckled, Zephyra gave a short rumbling snort, and the tension broke into laughter.

They found a bar that night, one that would have turned them away before but now only carried wary glances.

The innkeeper hesitated when they walked in, yet he did not stop them. Suspicion lingered in the air, but none of it mattered. They had earned their space.

The group took a table near the back, ordering meals and drinks until the wooden top was crowded with plates. Arden raised his cup, his voice steady. "To our first mission. A mess, but we made it ours. More will come, and we'll walk out of each one standing."

They raised their cups together, voices mingling in a cheer. For a while, the laughter and clinking of mugs drowned out the unease of Greyhold's watching eyes.

As the night thinned, plans began to take shape.

"We'll stay here until Boro finishes the processing," Nyra said, her tone practical.

"Then back to the outlands," Rael added, "where the real hunt waits."

Zephyra's eyes glowed faintly as she rumbled in agreement.

Arden leaned back, arms crossed. "The outlands, yes. But we're not just hunting beasts anymore. We'll start digging into the organization. This whole city stinks of silence.

The clans don't speak, the guild pretends not to see. Either they don't care, or they're part of it. And if word of that hybrid doesn't shake them awake, nothing will."

The table fell quiet. The thought was heavy, too heavy to ignore.

It was then that a shadow crossed the bar's doorway. A man in dark-grey uniform stepped inside, his boots echoing against the floor. He carried no weapon, yet the quiet way he moved told everyone he didn't need one. He didn't glance around; he went straight to Arden's table.

"Message from the Lord of Greyhold," the man said, his voice firm and carrying authority. He laid down a sealed parchment stamped with the crest of the city. "You and your party are summoned to the castle. Dawn."

He didn't wait for an answer. He placed the seal on the table and walked out as swiftly as he came.

Nyra stared at the parchment, unease tightening her grip around her cup. "That… didn't sound like a request."

Rael leaned forward, his jaw tense. "Feels more like we're being dragged into a cage."

Both of them turned toward Arden. Their unease was clear—fear glimmering in their eyes.

Arden reached for the seal, holding it up against the light. His tone was calm, almost amused. "Of course it's not a request. They can't ignore us anymore, and they're eager to see what kind of monsters walked into their town."

Nyra frowned. "What if it's a trap?"

Arden shrugged. "Then we walk into it with our heads high. If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't bother with parchment and seals." He set the letter back down and looked at each of them in turn. "Listen. Whatever they want, we'll face it together. You're not experiments. You're not pawns. And I'll burn this city to the ground before I let anyone touch you."

The conviction in his voice steadied them. Rael unclenched his fists, Nyra's breath steadied, and even Zephyra rumbled low in her chest as if echoing the vow.

Arden leaned back again, his smirk returning. "Besides, this is a good chance. Close enough to the top, and we might finally catch the stink of that organization. Let them stare at us. Let them wonder. I'm done hiding."

The table fell into silence again, but this time it wasn't fear that weighed on them. It was resolve.

Dawn was waiting.

Finding an inn this time was far easier than their first night in Greyhold.

No doors slammed shut, no voices barked refusals, suspicion lingered, yes, but no one dared turn them away now. They took their rooms, yet sleep came thin.

Each mind circled back to the parchment on the table, to the weight of dawn pressing closer.

And just like that, morning came.

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