The forge still carried the warmth of the fire, though the conversation had shifted from blacksmithing to legends. The lingering intensity of Narasha's tale still sat with them, and as the group settled, the inevitable teasing began.
Jhaeros smirked, leaning against the wall. "You know, Nara, for someone who tells stories about legends, you sure sound a lot like one yourself."
Lyra grinned. "Agreed. Hundred Arms, Iron Body, Flaming Fist—you might as well rename yourself Narasha the Second."
Garrick chuckled. "At this rate, people will start writing stories about you."
Nara scoffed. "Please, I don't need a fancy title. My fists do all the talking."
Kalem smirked. "That's exactly what Narasha would say."
She gave him a playful shove. "Oh, shut up."
The laughter settled, and as the embers crackled, Jhaeros straightened, his expression shifting to something more contemplative. He tapped his fingers against the bench, a subtle signal that he had something to say.
"I suppose it's my turn now," he said, glancing at the group. "Since we're talking about legends, let me tell you one from my people."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Your people? I thought Ilvaar didn't really care for war and conquest."
Jhaeros nodded. "True. We don't. We believe in balance, in natural harmony." He tilted his head, a slow smirk forming. "But hunting is also part of harmony."
Kalem leaned forward. "And this legend… who is it about?"
Jhaeros's eyes gleamed in the firelight.
"This is the story of Jaban—also known as 'The Predator,' the greatest hunter in Ilvaar history."
Jaban: The Hunter Who Became Legend
"In the deepest wilds of the world," Jhaeros began, "where the forests are so vast that no one has mapped them, where beasts grow large enough to shatter trees with a single step, there was once a hunter.
"He was not born noble, nor did he inherit a great title. Jaban was the son of a simple tracker, one of the many Ilvaar who lived by the laws of the wild—hunt only what you need, respect the balance, and never take more than the land offers."
Garrick crossed his arms. "Sounds pretty standard so far."
Jhaeros smirked. "It was, at first. But Jaban was different. From the moment he could walk, he could track. By the time he was a child, he could move through the densest forests without making a sound. And by the time he was a young man, he could hunt anything.
"But Jaban wasn't just talented. He was obsessed. He didn't just want to be a good hunter—he wanted to be the best. He wanted to know every beast, every weakness, every tactic. He wanted to be part of the wild itself."
Nara nodded approvingly. "Now that's a mindset I can respect."
Jhaeros grinned. "Then you'll like this next part."
"As tradition dictated, every Ilvaar who came of age had to complete a hunt to prove themselves. Most hunted common beasts—stalkers, warg-rats, maybe a dire-wolf if they were particularly bold."
Lyra glanced at Velka, who was lazily curled up in the corner. The dire-wolf flicked an ear but didn't react.
Jhaeros continued, "But Jaban? He rejected the usual trials. He said, 'If I am to be a true hunter, I must hunt what even hunters fear.'"
Kalem's eyes narrowed. "And what was that?"
Jhaeros grinned.
"The Veyl-Saar."
The room fell silent for a moment. Even those unfamiliar with Ilvaar legends could hear the weight in Jhaeros's voice.
Lyra spoke first. "That sounds… bad."
Jhaeros chuckled. "It was. The Veyl-Saar was a nightmare given flesh. A predator so ancient that even Ilvaar elders whispered its name with caution. It was said to be a shadow of the wilds—never seen, never heard, only felt before it struck. It was the hunter above all hunters."
Garrick exhaled. "And Jaban wanted to hunt it?"
Jhaeros nodded. "Not just hunt it. Prove himself against it. He left his village alone, armed only with his bow, his knives, and his instincts."
Kalem leaned forward. "And?"
Jhaeros's smile faded slightly.
"And he was never seen again."
A silence fell over the room.
Jhaeros let the weight of his words settle before continuing.
"But his story did not end there."
"Years passed. Jaban was presumed dead. The village mourned, but in time, they moved on.
"Then… strange things began to happen. Beasts that had tormented the villages for generations disappeared. Tracks of predators—basilisks, dire-beasts, and even wraith-hounds—were found torn apart, as if something even greater had hunted them."
Jhaeros's voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial.
"Hunters began whispering of something in the woods. Not the Veyl-Saar, no. Something else. Something… new. A shadow in the trees. A presence that could watch without being seen."
Lyra shivered. "You're telling me he survived?"
Jhaeros's gaze darkened. "Not just survived. He became something else.
"They say Jaban did not kill the Veyl-Saar. Instead, he learned from it. He watched it. Studied it. Understood it. He became it.
"And when he returned, he was no longer just a hunter—he was the Predator."
Kalem exhaled. "So he became the ultimate hunter."
Jhaeros nodded. "He no longer lived among the Ilvaar, but his presence was always there. He struck down poachers who upset the balance. He hunted monsters that threatened his people. And when warlords tried to invade the wilds, their armies were found torn apart—as if something unseen had hunted them, one by one.
"He never spoke, never revealed himself. But the Ilvaar knew.
"Jaban still walked the wilds. Watching. Waiting."
Silence settled in the forge, the weight of the tale hanging over them.
Lyra exhaled. "That's… terrifying."
Garrick chuckled. "That's Ilvaar history for you."
Nara grinned. "I like it. A warrior who doesn't conquer, doesn't rule, doesn't need titles—just does what needs to be done."
Kalem nodded. "A legend who lives on in whispers."
Jhaeros smirked. "Exactly. And to this day, the Ilvaar still believe that if you upset the balance of the wilds, if you take too much, if you hunt without purpose…
"The Predator will find you."
Kalem let out a breath. "That's… unsettling."
Jhaeros grinned. "Good. It should be."
Garrick chuckled. "I bet if someone looked hard enough, they'd find Jaban's remains."
Jhaeros tilted his head. "Maybe." His eyes gleamed in the firelight.
"Or maybe… he's still out there."