The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and fresh pine as Howick moved along the quiet path. The dim glow of the crescent moon lit her way, casting silver light over the dew-laden grass. Her boots crunched softly against the dirt trail, the rhythmic sound blending with the distant chirp of crickets.

Tonight had started as a simple patrol. Nothing unusual — just checking the area to ensure no chaotic energy lingered in the air. The moon's gentle presence should have brought comfort, but something about the stillness made her uneasy.

Her fingers drifted to the broken hourglass pendant resting against her chest. The cold glass pressed into her palm, a reminder of her duty — and her limits.

Then she felt it — a pulse, faint yet unmistakable,