Vale continued to stare at the spot where the dragon had vanished moments earlier, his grip still firm around Hurricane’s beak. The raven shifted irritably beneath his hand, wings twitching. Illu and August hopped closer, pecking insistently at Vale’s fingers in clear protest.

  “…Alright, alright,” Vale muttered.

  He loosened his grip, and Hurricane immediately shook himself, letting out a sharp, indignant caw. Vale exhaled slowly, forcing his racing heart to settle as he gathered his thoughts.

  'What… was that?'

  Not the obvious question, he knew exactly what he had seen. A dragon, unmistakably so. The real question was what kind.

  He replayed the scene in his mind, the creature’s patience, its precision, the complete lack of frenzy. It hadn’t attacked blindly. It had waited. Chosen. Struck only once.

  Predatory instinct, yes, but controlled. Calculated.

  Semi-sentient.

  And that realization made his stomach sink.

  Vale’s eyes widened slightly as the pieces fell into place. If these creatures truly followed spawn classifications, if the rules he knew still applied here, then that dragon wasn’t merely dangerous.

  “…No,” he whispered.

  If the scorpion had been a Brute Gnaw, a second stage, second class spawn, then the creature that had killed it so effortlessly could only be one thing.

  A Monstrous Devourer.

  Third class. Fourth stage.

  A being so far above both him and Eskar that neither of them would survive even a single exchange. The scorpion hadn’t even fought back. One strike had been enough.

  Vale swallowed hard.

  The only comfort, if it could be called that, was that the dragon hadn’t attacked him. It had seen him clearly. Measured him. And dismissed him.

  Not as a threat.

  Not even as prey.

  Vale let out a slow, uneasy breath. If predators like that roamed this desert, then the gnaws, creatures that would have hunted Vale and Eskar relentlessly, were being culled.

  Good news.

  The bad news was far worse.

  If even one of those dragons decided they were worth the effort, their fate would be sealed instantly.

  Shaking his head, Vale forced himself to move. He descended the dune carefully, boots sinking into the sand, until the small oasis came back into view. Eskar stood nearby, sealing the now-full canteen.

  Vale approached him, his expression hardened, the levity gone entirely.

  Eskar noticed immediately. He straightened and walked a few steps closer, concern flickering across his face.

  “Did you find anything?” he asked.

  Vale met his gaze, bitterness creeping into his expression.

  “To be honest?” he said. “I think we’re at the bottom of the food chain.”

  Eskar blinked, brow lifting. “What did you see?”

  “A gnaw,” Vale replied.

  Eskar’s eyes widened slightly, then Vale continued.

  “A Brute. But it wasn’t the problem.” Vale’s jaw tightened. “It was prey.”

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  Eskar froze.

  “…Prey?” he repeated quietly.

  Vale nodded. “The hunter was a Monstrous Devourer. Dragon-shaped.”

  Eskar took a step back, running a hand down his face as he exhaled sharply.

  “Great,” he muttered. “Just great.”

  After a moment, he looked up again. “Any good news at all?”

  Vale thought carefully before answering.

  “It saw me,” he said slowly. “And it didn’t care. That tells me something.” He gestured vaguely toward the desert. “The atum here is stagnant. These spawn, or whatever they are, aren’t mindless. They behave like animals. Real predators.”

  Eskar listened closely.

  “As long as we avoid them,” Vale continued, “we should be fine. Devourers won’t bother with prey that isn’t worth the energy.”

  Eskar considered that, then nodded. “Yeah… that tracks.”

  He glanced around the oasis. “Still, we need a plan.”

  “Agreed.”

  After some discussion, Eskar gestured toward the horizon. “We head north. If this planet functions anything like Earth, that’s where we’re more likely to find stable water sources.”

  Vale nodded. The logic was sound.

  Yet one problem remained, unspoken, unresolved, but true.

  The other students.

  Neither of them had any idea where the others had landed.

  By the time their conversation tapered off, the sun was already sinking low on the horizon. Long shadows stretched across the sand as the sky darkened, the desert cooling rapidly.

  Eskar noticed it first. He glanced at the horizon, then back to Vale.

  “We should eat,” he said. “It’s getting late.”

  He opened his storage device and pulled out a slab of preserved meat. Taking the onyx blade Vale had given him, he ignited it, controlled flame licking along the edge as he began roasting the meat.

  Vale raised an eyebrow. “Guess one of us should stay awake tonight?”

  Eskar didn’t look up. “Yeah. If gnaws are roaming, I’d rather not get killed in my sleep.”

  Vale nodded and sat near the oasis. The water level had dropped slightly from the canteen, but there was still plenty. He cupped his hands, scooped up the cool water, and drank deeply. Relief washed over him instantly.

  For a while, he stayed there, quietly playing with his ravens as Eskar worked. The desert grew quiet, save for the crackle of flame and the distant wind.

  Finally, Eskar extinguished the blade’s heat and pulled the meat free.

  “It’s ready,” he said.

  He tore it in half and offered one piece to Vale.

  Vale accepted it with a small, grateful smile.

  “Thanks.”

  Vale took a careful bite of the roasted meat. It was tough, slightly overcooked, but warm, comforting in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. As he chewed, he noticed movement near his feet.

  One by one, his ravens had gathered on the soft sand, their dark eyes fixed unblinkingly on the food in his hand.

  Vale glanced at them, then at the remaining meat, and let out a quiet breath of amusement. He tore off a sizable chunk, split it into three uneven pieces, and tossed one to each of them.

  They descended on it instantly, hopping and pecking with sharp, satisfied caws.

  Vale smiled faintly, took another bite of his own portion, and yawned as the fatigue finally began to catch up to him.

  By the time he finished eating, the desert had gone completely dark.

  The sky above was empty, no moon, no stars, only a vast, suffocating black stretching endlessly overhead. Eskár stood for a moment, scanning the horizon, his posture tense despite the quiet.

  After a few seconds, he turned to Vale.

  “Could you take first watch?” he asked.

  Vale looked up and raised his thumb. “Sure.”

  Eskar exhaled, visibly relieved. He offered a small smile before walking past Vale and lying down near the oasis. He shifted in the sand, glanced back once more, and spoke softly.

  “Thanks.”

  Then, almost instantly, he was asleep.

  Vale blinked, genuinely surprised.

  “…That was fast,” he muttered.

  He shook his head slightly, then turned his attention back to the desert. The ravens settled near him as the night deepened, the silence broken only by the whisper of wind over sand.

  For hours, Vale moved.

  From dune to dune, crest to crest, he scanned the surroundings carefully. No shifting sand. No distant silhouettes. No signs of gnaws or worse. Still, he never fully relaxed.

  Eventually, fatigue dragged him back toward the oasis. He stopped near its edge and stared out across the dunes, his gaze drifting farther, past the rolling sands, toward the towering sandstone mountains rising in rigid, unnatural formations on the horizon.

  They stood like silent sentinels.

  Vale stared at them for a long time.

  “…The Black Lion,” he murmured.

  The words felt heavy on his tongue.

  How were they supposed to find something like that when survival itself felt uncertain? When creatures that could erase them in seconds roamed freely beneath the sand?

  He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.

  “Figures,” he muttered.

  After one last scan of the area, Vale returned to Eskar and nudged him awake.

  Eskar’s eyes opened instantly, sharp, focused, fully alert.

  Vale froze for a second, startled again. “That’s… impressive.”

  Eskar sat up, stretching slightly. “Temple training,” he said simply. “Sleep when you can. I’m guessing it’s my turn?”

  Vale nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been up about four, maybe five hours.”

  Eskar rose smoothly to his feet. Vale didn’t waste a second, he lay down in the sand, pulled his cloak closer, and closed his eyes.

  Darkness took him almost immediately.

  It felt like only moments later when something shook him.

  “Vale.”

  He groaned softly, rolling onto his side as consciousness clawed its way back. Warmth brushed his face.

  Sunlight.

  Vale cracked his eyes open, disoriented, and looked up to see Eskar standing over him, rigid.

  “What’s wrong…?” Vale muttered.

  Eskar didn’t answer. Instead, he raised an arm and pointed.

  Vale followed his gaze.

  His breath caught.

  At the crest of a nearby dune, silhouetted against the rising sun, stood a man.

  Perfectly still.

  Watching them.