Dawn crept slowly over the Northern Highlands.
A pale, cold light spilt across rolling hills and jagged stone ridges, turning dew into silver and frost into glass. The sky was clear—too clear—and the air carried that brittle stillness that came only at high elevations. It felt less like morning and more like the world holding its breath.
Avdhoot rose before the others.
He stepped out of the tent quietly, the bronze leadership badge cold against his chest. The camp lay undisturbed within its stone embrace—tents intact, alarm bells silent, the fire pit reduced to faint embers. No signs of intrusion. No tracks. No broken vegetation.
Day One had passed without incident.
That alone made him uneasy.
He crouched near the fire pit, coaxing a small flame to life with practised control. The fire responded instantly, steady and contained. As warmth spread, the crystal shard beneath his shirt pulsed once—subtle, almost approving.
By the time the others emerged, the camp was awake.
Veer stretched dramatically, rolling his shoulders. "I survived the night. No monsters ate me. Slightly disappointed, honestly."
Tara ignored him, already scanning the surroundings, eyes sharp and calculating. "No disturbances," she said. "Good perimeter discipline."
Meira knelt near the stream, filling water containers with quiet efficiency. "The air pressure shifted slightly overnight," she observed. "The weather may change by evening."
They ate quickly—preserved rations supplemented with the last of the Shadowberries. No one lingered. Today wasn't about comfort.
Today was about work.
Their objectives were clear: Starlight Blooms and Ironleaf Bark. Quality mattered more than quantity. Mistakes would cost them points—and time.
They moved out shortly after sunrise, splitting into pairs as planned.
The highlands were different in daylight.
What had looked majestic the evening before now revealed its danger. Loose gravel shifted beneath boots. Wind funneled unpredictably through stone corridors. Shadows clung longer than they should have, pooling between boulders like spilled ink.
Avdhoot and Meira headed east toward the Ironleaf trees.
The massive trunks rose like ancient sentinels, bark streaked with silver veins that shimmered faintly when touched. Avdhoot placed his palm against one tree, feeling the deep, stable mana flowing beneath the surface—slow, powerful, patient.
"These are old," Meira murmured. "Harvest carefully. Ironleaf doesn't forgive greed."
They worked methodically.
Only the outer bark was taken, thin sections removed with precision tools designed to preserve the tree's integrity. Each piece was sealed immediately in preservation containers, mana flow stabilized and labeled.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
No birds. No insects. Not even the faint wind-chime rustle of highland grass.
Avdhoot paused, straightening slowly. "Do you feel that?"
Meira did not answer immediately. She closed her eyes, extending her senses outward through the soil and air.
"Yes," she said finally. "The ambient mana has flattened. Like something pressed it down."
They exchanged a glance—unspoken agreement passing between them.
They finished the harvest and began the return.
On the western side, Veer and Tara had found the Starlight Blooms exactly where Tara predicted. Silver flowers glowed softly against dark soil, petals catching sunlight like fragments of stars fallen to earth.
Tara supervised the harvest with surgical focus. "Cut at the stem base. Don't touch the petals directly. The luminescence destabilizes if contaminated."
Veer complied, surprisingly careful. "You know, for glowing flowers, these are deeply unsettling."
"Everything magical is," Tara replied. "That's what makes it dangerous."
They had just sealed the last container when the light shifted.
It wasn't clouds.
It was shadow.
A vast shape passed overhead—too fast to see clearly, but large enough to dim the ground beneath it.
Veer froze. "Tell me you saw that."
Tara's jaw tightened. "I did."
They looked up.
The sky was empty.
No birds. No clouds. No explanation.
The silence deepened.
When both pairs returned to camp, the unease followed them.
Avdhoot listened as Tara and Meira compared observations—mana suppression, silence, shadow movement. Each detail alone meant little. Together, they formed a pattern.
"I don't like this," Veer said quietly. "This feels like the part in stories where everyone ignores the warning signs."
Avdhoot nodded. "We proceed carefully. No unnecessary risks. We stay within visible distance of camp today."
They ate a light midday meal, packs lighter now with supplies replaced by precious herbs. The work should have felt satisfying.
Instead, tension crept under their skin.
The afternoon dragged.
Time felt distorted, stretching strangely. Even the sun seemed reluctant to move.
Then it happened.
A sound rolled across the highlands—low, distant, and immense.
It wasn't a roar.
It was something deeper. Older.
The air vibrated, stones trembling faintly beneath their feet. The sound didn't come from any single direction—it echoed, folding over itself, as though the sky itself had spoken.
Veer swallowed. "That… wasn't a beast, was it?"
Tara didn't answer.
Meira's face had gone pale. "That wasn't territorial," she said. "That was… declarative."
Avdhoot felt it then.
Fear—not sharp, not panicked—but heavy. The kind that settled in the chest and refused to move.
Another sound followed.
Closer this time.
A rush of displaced air swept across the camp, extinguishing the fire instantly. The alarm bells rattled violently, ringing without being touched.
Avdhoot turned slowly, eyes scanning the sky.
High above, far beyond the reach of spell or arrow, something moved against the sun.
A silhouette—vast wings stretched wide, cutting through cloudless sky with terrifying ease.
The shadow passed again.
And this time, it circled.
Tara whispered, "That's not Tier Two."
Meira's voice trembled despite her control. "That's not supposed to be here."
The sound came again—louder, sharper, filled with predatory intent.
A roar tore through the highlands, shredding the silence completely.
It wasn't rage.
It was dominance.
Veer took an unconscious step back. "That thing… is announcing itself."
Avdhoot clenched his fists, fire flickering instinctively around his hands before he forced it down.
"No panic," he said, steady despite the pounding in his chest. "We don't run blindly. We observe."
The shadow dove lower.
Wind screamed across the rocks. Loose stones lifted, scattering like debris in a storm.
Far away—too far to help, too close to ignore—another sound rose.
A human scream.
Avdhoot's blood went cold.
"That came from the cliffs," Meira said, eyes wide. "Fang territory."
Veer looked at Avdhoot, fear and resolve colliding in his expression. "Priya's group."
The sky darkened again as the shadow turned.
Whatever had entered Wildwood Valley was no wandering beast.
It was a predator.
And it had found prey.
Avdhoot straightened, every lesson, every instinct snapping into alignment.
"Change of plans," he said. "We move—now."
The crystal shard pulsed violently against his chest, burning hot.
High above, unseen eyes locked onto movement below.
And the Sky Reaper screamed once more—closer than before.
[End of Chapter 10]