Kael pressed forward, the tight, oppressive walls of the cave beginning to widen with each step. The space opened into a larger chamber, the air thick with the stench of death and decay. His torchlight revealed the grim scene before him—bones scattered haphazardly across the ground, the remains of armor rusting amidst the refuse, torn clothing hanging from jagged rocks, and broken trinkets glinting faintly in the flickering light.

  Kael's gaze swept the area, taking in every detail. His sharp eyes caught a glint of something familiar on the ground—a medallion, identical to the one he had taken from the first body. Another token of the ill-fated White Orchard Guild mercenaries.

  He moved cautiously toward it, his boots crunching softly on the littered remains. Stabbing the torch into the soft dirt to free his hand, Kael knelt and picked up the medallion. The insignia of the elite mercenary guild stared back at him, a solemn reminder of those who had come before him—and failed. He slid the medallion into his pouch alongside the first.

  As he stood, he took a moment to steady himself, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. The stillness of the chamber was unsettling, broken only by the faint echo of water dripping from the stalactites above.

  Kael froze as a low, guttural growl echoed through the cavern. It reverberated off the walls, making it hard to pinpoint the source. He instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, his sword at the ready, torchlight casting flickering shadows across the chamber. His crimson eyes darted about, scanning every corner for movement. He could hear the creature—but he couldn’t see it.

  Then, a subtle shift above caught his attention. His enhanced vision, coupled with the torchlight, allowed him to glimpse the faint outline of something large hanging from the cavern ceiling. Kael narrowed his eyes, focusing. Whatever it was, it began to stir.

  It spread what appeared to be arms at first—but they weren’t arms. **Wings.**

  Kael’s breath quickened as the creature slowly unfolded its body, revealing a grotesque silhouette. It wasn’t draconic—not nearly large enough. It had an unnerving, large frame, the wings leathery and jagged, with a sickly sheen. The pieces clicked together in Kael’s mind, drawing on years of hunting and combat experience. The disjointed limbs, the serrated claws, the hideous screech that was said to disorient prey.

  "Harrowmoth," he muttered under his breath, gripping his sword tighter. The name alone carried a weight of danger. This wasn’t just some feral beast—it was a predator, a nightmare of the swamps and caves, known for its cunning and ferocity.

  The Harrowmoth shifted fully now, its elongated body releasing from the ceiling with an unsettling grace. It turned toward him, glowing eyes piercing through the darkness like two molten orbs. Kael’s jaw tightened.

  "Figures it’d be you," he said grimly, preparing for the fight ahead.

  The Harrowmoth released its grip from the ceiling with a sickening scrape of claws against stone. Its massive frame dropped onto the cavern floor with a bone-rattling thud, just outside the torch’s flickering glow. The creature moved with an unsettling grace, its long claws scraping softly against the stone as it crept forward, inch by inch, its monstrous form beginning to emerge from the shadows.

  As the torchlight reached it, Kael got a full view of the abomination. The Harrowmoth stood nearly five feet tall, its grotesquely muscular body rippling beneath its leathery skin. The wings that had folded around its body now spread slightly, revealing a tattered and sinewy membrane that twitched and flexed with every step. Its elongated limbs ended in jagged claws, each one sharp enough to rend flesh and bone.

  Its face was nightmarish—a bat-like visage twisted into a perpetual snarl. Sharp, uneven fangs protruded from its maw, and its glowing yellow eyes pierced through the dim light, filled with predatory malice. A thick, bristly mane of fur ran from the top of its head down its back, accentuating its hunched, bestial posture. Every breath it took was audible, a low, guttural growl rumbling deep within its chest.

  Kael tightened his grip on his sword, watching as the Harrowmoth moved into the torchlight, fully revealing its monstrous form. Its claws flexed, wings twitching in anticipation of a kill. It was a predator through and through—and it had found its prey.

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  The Harrowmoth lunged forward, its claws slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Kael sidestepped just in time, feeling the rush of wind from the beast’s attack as it narrowly missed his torso. He swung his short sword in retaliation, aiming for the creature's exposed side, but the Harrowmoth twisted its body unnaturally, avoiding the blade with an agility that belied its massive size.

  It let out an ear-piercing screech, the sound reverberating through the cavern and sending a shockwave of pain through Kael’s sensitive ears. He winced but didn’t falter, planting his feet firmly on the rocky ground. The Harrowmoth used the momentary distraction to lash out again, its claws raking toward his chest. Kael raised his sword, the metal catching the blow with a shower of sparks. The force of the impact drove him back a step, his boots grinding against the scattered bones littering the floor.

  Kael quickly regained his footing and countered with a horizontal slash aimed at the Harrowmoth’s torso. This time, his blade connected, carving a shallow gash across the creature's leathery skin. Black ichor oozed from the wound, and the Harrowmoth let out a guttural snarl, retreating a few steps. It crouched low, its wings flaring out to make itself appear even larger. Kael didn’t give it the chance to recover. He pressed forward, aiming a thrust at its midsection.

  The Harrowmoth batted the sword aside with its wing, the sheer strength of the motion almost ripping the weapon from Kael’s grasp. It retaliated with a powerful swipe of its claw, catching Kael’s shoulder and tearing through the fabric of his cloak. The pain flared hot and sharp, but Kael gritted his teeth, refusing to let the injury slow him down.

  The beast lunged again, this time using its wings to propel itself off the ground. It sailed toward Kael with horrifying speed, aiming to pin him against the cavern wall. Kael dropped to the ground, rolling to the side just as the Harrowmoth slammed into the stone, cracking the surface with its impact. He sprang to his feet, thrusting his torch into the creature’s face. The flame caught the edge of its wing, and the Harrowmoth screeched in pain as the fire licked at its skin.

  Kael took advantage of its momentary distraction, stepping in and driving his sword into its thigh. The creature roared, twisting violently and forcing Kael to pull his weapon free and retreat. The Harrowmoth limped now, black ichor dripping from both its thigh and torso, but its rage seemed to fuel it. It spread its wings wide and leaped into the air, hovering just above the ground before diving toward him with talons extended.

  Kael raised his sword at the last second, the blade plunging into the Harrowmoth’s chest as it collided with him. The force knocked him onto his back, the weight of the beast pressing down on him. Its claws lashed out wildly, one raking across his side and drawing blood. Kael growled in pain but didn’t let go of his sword, driving it deeper into the creature’s chest.

  The Harrowmoth flailed, its wings beating furiously as it tried to rise. Kael used his free hand to grab the torch from the ground and shoved it against the creature’s face. The flames engulfed its head, and the Harrowmoth’s screeches turned into a deafening wail of agony. It reared back, giving Kael just enough room to kick it off him.

  The creature stumbled, its body engulfed in flames as it thrashed about the chamber. Kael pushed himself to his feet, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He grabbed his sword, yanking it free from the Harrowmoth’s chest with a spray of black ichor.

  The beast collapsed to its knees, its strength finally failing as the fire consumed it. Kael stepped forward, raising his sword high, and brought it down with a decisive strike, severing the Harrowmoth’s head. The monstrous body slumped to the ground, its wings twitching one last time before going still.

  Kael stood over the corpse, bloodied and breathing heavily. He wiped the ichor from his blade onto his cloak.

  Kael slid his sword back into its sheath with a practiced motion, the faint rasp of steel echoing briefly through the cavern. He approached the monstrous corpse, his boots crunching against scattered bones and debris. The torchlight flickered across the Harrowmoth’s lifeless form, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls.

  Kneeling beside the beast, Kael began his examination. His hands, rough but precise, traced the creature's leathery wings, folded awkwardly beneath its twisted frame. He murmured to himself, half in thought, half to break the heavy silence.

  “Juvenile, no older than three winters,” he observed, noting the still-smooth texture of its claws and the smaller wingspan compared to older Harrowmoths. His fingers brushed its thorax, feeling the density of its muscles. “Male.” He leaned closer, inspecting the creature’s fangs, still slick with ichor. “Not fully grown, but strong enough to tear through armor.”

  Kael’s gaze shifted to the ceiling of the cavern, where faint scratch marks marred the rock—a telltale sign of creatures roosting above. His crimson eyes narrowed as the realization settled over him.

  “Harrowmoths are social,” he muttered, his tone grim. “Where there’s one, there’s more.” He rose slowly, scanning the darkness that stretched deeper into the cave. The faint scent of decay and rot still lingered, heavier now, a sure sign of something greater further ahead.

  “No doubt there’s a Harrowmatriarch waiting deeper in,” he said, gripping the hilt of his sword again. “The mother of the brood.”

  Kael took a moment to lean against the cold stone wall, letting the tension from the fight drain from his body. He set the torch upright in a nearby crevice, its glow casting a steady light across the cavern. Carefully, he reached for his shoulder, pulling back the torn fabric of his cloak and shirt to examine the wound.

  The Harrowmoth's claws had left deep gashes across his shoulder, jagged and raw. Blood had seeped into the fabric, sticking it to his skin. He winced as he peeled the material away and assessed the damage. “Not as bad as it felt,” he muttered.

  Next, he pulled his shirt up to inspect the wound along his side. The Harrowmoth's talons had raked through his armor just enough to break the skin, leaving a trio of shallow but painful scratches. Kael frowned but remained calm. Pain was nothing new to him.

  His healing factor, being much faster than that of a normal human, meant these injuries were manageable. Based on his experience, the gashes on his shoulder would close in roughly within 24 hours. The scratches on his side, less severe, would be healed within a few. A full recovery, with light scarring, would take no more than a day.

  “Could’ve been worse,” he muttered to himself. He reached for a small pouch at his belt and retrieved a clean strip of cloth. After dabbing the wounds with water from his flask, he bound his shoulder tightly, the pressure staunching the bleeding. For his side, he decided to leave the wounds uncovered to allow the natural healing process to work unhindered.

  Kael rolled his shoulder experimentally and flexed his side, testing his range of motion. The pain flared but was tolerable. He picked up his torch and straightened, his mind already refocusing on the task ahead.