The scratch came again.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Not a claw dragging wildly across wood, not a beast testing the barricade with brute force, but a single sound placed against the church door with almost thoughtful restraint. The praying faltered. Several villagers lifted their heads at once, eyes wide, hands frozen around charms and prayer beads. Someone whispered the name of a god under his breath, but the word came out cracked and unfinished.
Kael did not move from the pew.
His repaired armor rested against his body again, the damage from the Dark Beast mostly mended. Brokk's Hammer lay beside him, close enough to grab, and his gauntlets sat properly over his hands. The minimap remained open in the corner of his vision, silent but more useful than every prayer in the building. Green dots filled the church, packed together in trembling clusters. Outside, the red dots had tightened around the walls.
Then came a knock.
Three taps.
Measured.
Civilized.
