Of the divine and beastly, we are bound,

Of the flesh reaped from hallowed ground,

Though the heavens may call, our nature, twice mixed,

Of the ethereal, the primal, our spirits affixed

Twilight horizons, our constellated fate bore,

A duality, a rending, an internal eternal war,

Angels struggle and beasts travail,

Upon our thoughts, upon the veil

Bound are we, upon mortal coil

Where gods and beasts, forever toil,

To walk through heaven, our souls afire.

Limited limitless thus do we expire.

Jaegryn sat in the back corner of Asham's Keep. Where he could lean back and use the shadows like a cowl. From there he could watch the locals. From there he was out of sight and therefore, blessedly, out of mind. Thus far he'd interacted with few of the inhabitants and for that he was thankful. The trip out here was another bust. Another waste of his time. It was just another backwater hole on the edge of the imperial interior.

He lifted his mug of ale, pressed its soft wood rim to his lips and drank. The mug lent the otherwise bland ale -which was apparently the pride and joy of the tavern, a special family secret passed down from generation to generation- a nutty flavor. Like the ale, the small town of Havensgrad was bland. Unique in the same way that all backwaters were. And yet, like the nutty flavoring of the mug, he was somehow finding himself enjoying the experience. It's the small things... he told himself.

Earlier in the day, when he'd stopped at border to Havensgrad, lingering on the edge of the wilderness, standing next to thick rugged trees that stood like ancient monuments to the ancientness of these wilds, he'd searched for the one universal thing all colonies had. Drop containers. They were given to first wave colonists with the intention of being an efficient storehouse that would later be converted to governmental buildings or houses, should the local population be so equitable. Their polished gray metal, shimmering in the sun, tattooed with the holy symbol of the Imperial Goddess was a symbol of order in the otherwise chaotic wilds of the unknown. And for that Jaegryn hated them. Hated them for marring the wilderness around them. Hated them for sticking out and being different.

The door opened and a rowdy trio added their incessant chattering to the already loud den of sound. Jaegryn watched them make their way to the bar and flop down on the wooden stools. His eyes drifted to the rest of the tavern. Swirling patterns of grin covered everything in their sacred unknowable insignias. In a way the tavern was a microcosm for the rest of the town. All wood. Rugged. Natural. Enjoyable.

Jaegryn leaned back, pressing his head against the hard wood wall and closed his eyes. The noise of the people washed over him like a waterfall threatening to drown out what little inner peace he had. The heavy thud of approaching footsteps made his eyes snap open. A deep dissatisfied growl rumbled in his chest.

The bar tender, a tall barrel chested man with bushy eyebrows, set another mug upon the table. Jaegryn eyed it. He hadn't ordered a second round. He was only half way into his first.

"Jer Jaegryn, " the man said, "You'll be needing a room for the night."

Jaegryn didn't say anything, only kept his gaze fixed upon the man. The man shifted from foot to foot. He licked his lips, his hands wrestling with one another in an aggressive attempt to sooth his anxiety.

"Sater's Eye." The man said, lifting his hand and jabbing a finger towards the ceiling. When Jaegryn didn't respond the man continued, "A wicked omen. Comes to vex the good people of Havensgrad. Marks the end of the harvest season. Shame as ol' Jasnar didn't quite finish his harvest."

Jaegryn tilted his head. Despite himself he found himself intrigued.

"Why not finish?"

"He can't. That's the way of things. We leave it as an appeasement to the Eye."

Jaegryn's brow furrowed and he leaned forward resting his arm against the table. An involuntary shiver rushed through the man. The dim light of the tavern had caught Jaegryn's eyes causing them to shine. The first time he'd seen that particular mutation it had startled him as well.

"Appeasement? Are you troubled by heathen gods?"

"No my jer. A god butcher saw to that. Purged the lands of their rebellion. Most refused to submit to her Imperial Majesty. The wilds have been much... quieter."

Jaegryn rumbled his agreement. The wilds had been unusually tame. He's hardly run into any spirits as he made his way from the landing pad on a nearby plateau to the town proper. The wilds were lush and thriving yet somehow they were subdued. Lacking some sort of unknowable vital essence. Now he understood. The primals that had once dwelled here had either been forced into fealty of the Imperial Goddess or sacrificed. What was more interesting to Jaegryn was that the ecclesiarchy send a godslayer and not an binder. Primals weren't actually gods and were usually useful in hextech. He let that unanswerable question fall away as he fixed his gaze upon the man before him.

Sighing, he motioned for the bar tender to sit. The man took a glance around the room and then over to the bar. A young woman with unruly red hair gave him a nod when she saw him looking her way. From what Jaegryn had seen, she was the law here. The one who keep chaos at bay. Earlier a brawl had broken out. Jaegryn had watched curious as she had walked into the midst of the two men wrestling with one another. Several quick strikes and they were down.

The tavern owner leaned heavy against the table as he sat as though he were laying down a great burden.

"I'm surprised no one has said anything. Though..." he gazed at Jaegryn who only cocked an eyebrow tempting the man to continue the thought. The man shook his head deciding against it, "Everyone must've assumed that's why you were here."

That caught Jaegryn's attention. There was only one reason someone like him would be here. Tamping down on his anticipation he forced himself to take another swig of ale.

The bartender leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "The old timers said that the creature didn't show up until after the gods died. Some figure they were keeping it away. Now it shows up when Sater's Eye hangs overhead casting its malevolent gaze down upon us."

Jaegryn's heart pounded in his chest. The question rushed out of him before he even knew he was talking.

"It only appears under specific astronomical conditions?"

"Ae."

The old familiar rage bubbled up within Jaegryn. He scraped his fangs together as he chewed on this new bit of information. There was a foundling here. If that were true that meant there was a tear in the veil somewhere around here. It was probably made when the primals were slain. His jaw clenched. There was nothing worse in this universe than the disgusting things that crawled out from the foundations.

"Tell me more about it."

"They say that it lingers at the edge of the forest. That it doesn't dare breach the boundary of the town."

Curious, Jaegryn thought to himself. What kind of monster did that? Most he'd run into had no hesitation in entering in small communities, so long as the right conditions were at play.

"Has anyone seen it?"

"Ae my jer. Its slender as though emaciated. Hunched with long lanky arms used to run but it can stand up and stare you in the eye. And the face... goddess... the face. It's like seeing a thin skin wrapped tightly about a canine skull. Most claim it doesn't even have a nose, only the jagged bones where one should be."

Just then the door to the tavern was flung open and a shrieking wail slip through the noise beating it into silent submission. All eyes turn to see a haggard woman standing there wide eyed and chest heaving.

"He's gone!"

The tavern owner jumped up, hitting the table with his belly as he lifted himself from his seat.

"Lila, who's gone?"

"My son. He went out into the woods at dusk. Said he was looking for Eza."

The tavern owner's face dropped. He turned to Jaegryn.

"What's happened?"

"Her son, Yavik, is betrothed to Eza. The lil lady is one of our best hunters. She's been pushing herself for the last week hunting game to make up for the crops that went to appeasing the Eye. We haven't seen her in two days."

"We need a search party!" The mother scream, searching with pleasing eyes at the other members of the community.

None would match her gaze.

Jaegryn grabbed the mug and guzzled it down. It actually wasn't that bad now. He rose to his feet and marched over to the mother.

"Which way?"

"You can't go out there alone. We need a-"

"Which way?" he said, this time it came out like the low rumble of thunder.

"North of town. He was headed towards the cliff face where Eza like's to set up camp.

"How far?"

"I... I don't know. I don't go into the wilds."

"Five miles." The tavern owner said.

Jaegryn glanced over his shoulder and gave the man a nod. He made his way to the door. He lingered there at the boundary. The warm of the tavern at his back battle with the cool autumn air before him.

"No one's ever returned from hunting the creature."

Jaegryn nodded. What she really meant was that no person had ever returned. Fortunately for them he was no such thing.