Week three at the Western Wall began with a storm. Not a magical one—just wind and snow, howling hard enough to strip the breath from your lungs. The barracks shook all night, the shutters rattling like bones in a sack.
We didn't sleep much.
The next morning, Thorn's mood matched the weather.
"Patrol routes changed. Reports of tracks near Sector 9B," he said. "We're taking Unit Twelve out for recon. Full gear. Blades sharp. Move like you mean it."
I'd barely laced my boots before Wren shoved a pack into my arms. "You're slow today."
"Didn't sleep."
"Neither did we. No excuses."
Thorn handed out assignments as we geared up. Lark checked everyone's protective charms, small stones embedded with minor enchantments—just enough to keep you warm and slow bleeding.
"Try not to break this one," she told me. "They only gave us two spares this month."
"Good to know my life's worth a stone and a half," I muttered.
Flint chuckled as he cinched his cloak. "Come on, Ash. A whole two stones, if you smile more."
---
We moved out before sunrise, the sky a thick smear of gray. Snow clung to every branch, muffling sound and making the world feel unnaturally still.
Our formation was tight—Thorn at the front, Wren and Flint flanking, Lark behind, and me in the center.
I'd learned to keep my head on a swivel. The forest didn't just hide monsters—it hid cliffs, sinkholes, and the occasional territorial boar.
After two hours, we found the tracks.
Large. Clawed. Deep.
Thorn knelt beside them, brushing away snow. "Too big for wolves. Single file. No tail marks. Pack behavior."
"Dire beasts?" Wren asked.
He nodded slowly. "Could be."
Lark shifted beside me. "They're not supposed to migrate this early."
"Exactly," Thorn said. "Something spooked them north."
We followed the trail deeper into the woods, past frost-covered rocks and trees bent low with snow. The temperature dropped with each step, the silence pressing harder.
Then I saw them.
Eyes.
Dozens of them.
Glinting in the dark between trees—pale blue, unblinking.
I froze.
"Eyes," I whispered. "Southwest ridge. Fifteen meters."
Thorn raised a hand. We stopped.
He didn't speak. Just signaled. Retreat.
We began backing away, slow, careful steps. No one dared breathe loudly.
The eyes didn't move. Just watched.
Then, all at once, they vanished.
---
We didn't speak until we reached the first ridge back toward the outpost.
Thorn finally exhaled. "They were observing."
"That's… not normal," Flint said.
"No, it isn't."
I turned to Thorn. "Why didn't we fight?"
"Because they weren't *hunting*. They were *watching*," he replied. "And because we're not suicidal."
I couldn't argue with that.
---
Back at camp, Thorn called for a full squad debrief around the map table.
"Three patrols reported similar sightings," he said, gesturing to marked locations. "Different species. Different signs. All moving inward."
Wren frowned. "Why would monsters converge in winter?"
"Maybe they're running *from* something," Lark offered.
Thorn tapped the center of the map. "Or toward something. Either way, our job is information. Not answers."
He looked at me. "Ash. You were the first to spot the watchers. Good eyes."
My eyebrows shot up. "Wasn't sure anyone noticed."
"I notice everything," Thorn said. "Keep noticing."
---
That night, I sat by the fire, staring at the flickering flames, replaying the moment those eyes locked with mine. There was no bloodlust. No hunger.
Just… calculation.
Wren sat beside me, poking the fire with a stick.
"You didn't panic."
"Almost did," I admitted. "But something about them felt wrong. Not just dangerous—*organized*."
She nodded. "I saw it too. We've both been here long enough to know when monsters start acting like scouts, it means something's brewing."
Flint arrived with a pot of stew. "You two look like someone walked over your graves."
"They might have," Wren muttered.
---
Later, when I finally lay down, I stared at the ceiling, mind racing.
There were patterns in the woods. Shadows that moved when they shouldn't. Monsters migrating like soldiers. And somehow, I'd seen them clearer than I had any right to.
I remembered what Thorn had said.
"Keep noticing."
Fine.
I would.
Because something *was* coming.
And I needed to be ready.