The hidden settlement did not sleep that night.

Long after the flying steel beast had vanished beyond the trees, fires continued burning throughout the village. Warriors gathered in groups, speaking in hushed voices while elders and hunters argued around the central square. Even the great wolves remained restless. They paced around their pens, occasionally lifting their heads toward the sky as though expecting the thunderous machine to return.

At the center of the settlement stood the largest structure in the village.

Unlike the other wooden buildings, this one had been constructed from thick logs and massive stone foundations that had weathered generations of rain and wind. Animal skulls and carved totems lined the entrance. Primitive banners made from hide hung from the wooden pillars.

Inside, a massive figure sat upon a broad stone chair.

Chief Gorthak of the Black Fang Clan remained silent.

At nearly five and a half meters tall, he towered over everyone present. Dark fur covered most of his body while leather armor reinforced with bones protected his chest and shoulders. A long scar ran from his left shoulder to his waist, a souvenir from a battle decades ago against a giant forest drake.

Yet despite his fearsome appearance, his yellow eyes held intelligence.

Deep intelligence.

The kind possessed only by those who had survived long enough to lead.

Around him sat five other giants.

The Council of Fangs.

Each represented one of the great families of the settlement.

None of them looked comfortable.

A fire crackled at the center of the hall, illuminating faces lined with worry.

The oldest among them finally broke the silence.

"The Sky Demons have returned."

Several others murmured agreement.

Gorthak said nothing.

His eyes remained fixed on the club resting against his chair.

The image of the flying machine replayed endlessly in his mind.

A beast of steel.

No wings.

No feathers.

No magic.

Yet it flew.

And it carried humans.

Humans armed with thunder.

He had watched his warriors die without understanding how.

One moment they had been charging.

The next, they had fallen.

Invisible force.

Thunder.

Death.

It made no sense.

The oldest giant continued speaking.

"Perhaps they are spirits."

Another giant snorted.

"Spirits do not bleed. My son saw one of the humans."

"They rode the sky."

"They also carried metal."

"They made fire."

The hall descended into arguments.

Voices rose.

Several giants spoke over one another.

Some believed the newcomers were demons.

Others thought they were descendants of an ancient tribe that had left the forest centuries ago.

A few feared they were gods.

Gorthak remained silent.

Eventually, he raised one hand.

The hall immediately quieted.

Authority.

Absolute and unquestioned.

The chief slowly stood.

He was enormous even by the standards of his people.

The firelight cast his shadow across the hall.

"They are not gods."

His voice was deep enough to make the wooden walls vibrate.

"They bleed."

Nobody argued.

Because one of the wolves had managed to wound one of the humans with an arrow before the flying machine arrived.

There had been blood.

Real blood.

Gods did not bleed.

The chief looked toward the entrance.

"They are people."

That statement somehow made everyone more uneasy.

Because if they were people...

Then where had they come from?

The Black Fang Clan had existed in the Forest of No Return for centuries.

Their ancestors had hidden within these forests after ancient wars drove them from the western mountains. Generation after generation had lived and died beneath the trees. They had built settlements. Raised children. Farmed the land.

They had also learned a harsh lesson.

The outside world feared them.

Humans hunted them.

Kings sent armies against them.

Villages burned.

Children died.

Eventually, their ancestors retreated deeper into the forest and vanished from history.

That was over three hundred years ago.

Since then, they had remained hidden.

Until tonight.

One of the younger giants frowned.

"If they are people, why do they fly?"

No answer came.

Because nobody knew.

Gorthak himself did not know.

And that fact disturbed him.

He knew every beast in the forest.

Every monster.

Every danger.

Yet tonight, he had encountered something entirely new.

Something beyond his understanding.

A warrior entered the hall and bowed.

"Chief."

Gorthak looked toward him.

"The scouts have returned."

"Send them."

Several warriors entered.

Their expressions looked uneasy.

One of them immediately knelt.

"We followed the flying beast."

Every giant in the room became attentive.

"Speak."

The warrior swallowed.

"It flew beyond the western forest."

The chief frowned.

"How far?"

"Far."

That answer was useless.

The warrior quickly continued.

"It flew farther than any hunting party has ever traveled."

Murmurs spread through the hall.

The Forest of No Return was enormous.

Most of its inhabitants never left their territories.

Only a handful of scouts had explored the western reaches.

Even then, they had never reached its end.

The kneeling warrior looked genuinely frightened.

"There are people beyond the forest."

Silence.

The hall became completely still.

The chief slowly narrowed his eyes.

"Explain."

The warrior took a deep breath.

"We found roads."

More silence.

"We found fields."

Another.

"And smoke."

The fire crackled.

Nobody moved.

Roads.

Fields.

Smoke.

Settlements.

Civilization.

The implication struck every member of the council simultaneously.

The world beyond the forest was not empty.

People still existed.

Many people.

And somehow, those people had learned to fly.

One of the council members spoke quietly.

"Our ancestors were right."

Another nodded.

"The outside world survived."

The chief remained silent.

Because his thoughts had moved elsewhere.

The six humans on the ridge.

Their weapons.

Their discipline.

Their flying beast.

Their rescue.

Everything pointed toward organization.

Those six men had not been explorers.

They had been soldiers.

He knew soldiers.

He had fought them before.

Long ago.

The memory remained vivid.

Steel armor.

Spears.

Banners.

War.

These newcomers felt different.

But they were soldiers nonetheless.

Which meant something else existed.

An army.

And armies rarely sent only six men.

The chief’s expression hardened.

He looked toward the scouts.

"Did they see our settlement?"

The answer came immediately.

"Yes."

No one spoke.

Because that single word changed everything.

For centuries, the Black Fang Clan had remained hidden.

Now they had been found.

The chief slowly walked toward the fire.

Its light reflected in his yellow eyes.

His people watched him.

Waiting.

The great wolves outside howled.

The sound carried through the night.

Gorthak looked upward.

Toward the dark roof.

Toward the sky beyond.

The sky where the steel beast had flown.

Eventually, he spoke.

"The forest is no longer ours alone."

Nobody argued.

Because everyone understood.

Their secret had ended tonight.

The outside world knew.

And somewhere beyond the western forests, the newcomers were undoubtedly discussing them as well.

The chief turned toward his council.

"Double the patrols."

Heads nodded.

"Move the prisoners deeper into the settlement."

More nods.

"Prepare the warriors."

This time, several giants exchanged uneasy glances.

One finally asked the question everyone feared.

"Do you believe they will return?"

The chief did not answer immediately.

He remembered the thunder weapons.

The flying beast.

The six men on the ridge.

Most of all...

He remembered their escape.

Those humans had not fled in panic.

They had retreated in order.

Disciplined.

Controlled.

Soldiers.

Eventually, Gorthak looked toward the darkness beyond the entrance.

"They will."

The answer chilled the hall.

Because nobody doubted him.

He was the oldest warrior among them.

The most experienced.

The man who had fought humans and survived.

If he believed the strangers would return...

Then they would.

The chief slowly picked up his massive club.

Its wooden handle still bore fresh marks from where it had missed the flying beast.

He looked at the weapon.

Then at the fire.

Then toward the west.

For the first time in centuries, an enemy existed that he did not understand.

An enemy that flew.

An enemy that carried thunder.

An enemy that looked at the forest and did not run away.

The realization settled heavily upon him.

A storm was coming.

And this time, it would not come from within the forest.

It would come from the sky.