Elara stepped to the edge of the ward line as the sun sank low. Stone stakes rose from the snow, each crowned with a green gem that cast a yellow glow. Beyond them, the mountain waited. Inside it, a cursed heart kept her village locked in winter. She meant to climb up there and thaw it, even if she didn't yet know how. A shape moved between the trees. Pale. Low. It circled where the gem-light faded into dusk. She had watched it three nights running, and tonight it was closer. She knelt at the treeline and brushed snow from a dark shape on the ground. A black fur pelt, marked with bold yellow symbols, lay half-buried where the creature had passed. The runes were warm under her glove. Whatever circled out there wasn't a simple beast. It was shedding old magic into the snow. Elara pulled the heavy necklace from beneath her coat. Purple stone, yellow sigils, a chain her grandmother swore had once belonged to a king. She didn't fully believe it. She believed she needed to believe it. She tucked it back against her chest and tightened the strap on her pack. The pale thing stopped circling. It faced her. Elara stepped past the last glowing stake, into the open snow, and started walking toward the slope.

Elara walked into the open snow, and the pale shape did not charge. It melted back into the trees. She kept moving, boots crunching, the necklace warm against her chest. She told herself warm was good. She did not quite believe it. She came upon a hamlet at the foot of the slope. Stone walls stood split open. Deep claw marks raked the doors. A water trough lay cracked in half, ice spilling from it like a broken tongue. Whatever hunted her had practiced here first. Behind the hamlet, a narrow stair dropped into the rock. Glowing stars were set into the ceiling, lighting a path down. She did not want to go under the mountain. She wanted distance from the trees. She went down. The stair opened into a wide chamber. At its center sat a black chest marked with purple sigils. Her necklace pulled toward it, sharp, like a hooked thing tugging at her ribs. She knelt and pressed the stone to the lid. The sigils flared. The lid clicked open. Inside lay a folded white cloak and a short iron blade etched with the same yellow runes as the pelt in the snow. A binding kit. Something made to hold the creature, not just scare it off. She took both and stood. When she climbed back up, fresh footprints crossed her own in the snow. Bare. Human-shaped. Still steaming. The thing in the trees was not only a thing. It was waiting for her to come out armed.