Broderyk is a broad shouldered heavy set muscular man shaped by labour and long vigilance. His rough calloused hands, thick from old scars are steady as stone. Once entrusted with with another's safety, he failed in a moment he has replayed a hundred times. He carried the weight of that failure, the pain of the memory etched deep into the creases on his forehead and the corners of his eyes. He speaks little, watches everything, and places himself between danger and others without hesitation. Protection is not pride for him - it is penance.

Broderyk was hired to escort a caravan bearing survey records and boundary markers. This was meant to be a temporary stop. The road behind us became unsafe, Broderyk stayed. Someone has to stand where the line is weakest.

Broderyk saw a creature. It did not rush or roar. It watched. It's eyes reflected no firelight - an absence of light was more memorable. As if the dark itself had chosen a shape. He cannot forget how patient it was. Like it was waiting for a gate to be left unbarred.

An apprentice assigned to his watch was lost to the darkness. They stepped forward when Broderyk hesitated. The Umbra took them quickly. Their name is on the Wall. Caution is not the same as protection.

Broderyk no longer waits for darkness to make the first move.