Through the mist-shrouded cobblestone alleys of the old city, the hunter moved with a purpose that belied his years. Cillian's boots, worn by countless pursuits, echoed softly against the stones.

"I know ye lurk in these shadows, child," he called out.

"I did not teach ye to cower. Face me, as the beast ye've become!" His eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of movement, his hand resting on the pommel of a blade that had ended many a monster's tale.