13. Maldenis
Maldenis
Maldenis dragged a hand through his hair, trying to keep his temper in check.
He felt something twist in his chest at the thought of the calf growing up the way he had—confused, restrained, never understanding what she was capable of.
She deserved more than that, deserved the chance to live fully in her power instead of shrinking herself to fit into a life that would never truly be hers.
“So what?” he said. “We just leave? Pretend we didn’t see anything and hope for the best?”
“Yes,” Liora crossed her arms tighter. “If it means she gets to keep her life.”
He stared at her.
“And if that life gets her killed?”
“At least it would be her life.” Her expression hardened. “Her choice. Not one we forced on her.”
That hit something in him. Choice. He let out a sharp breath, frustration finally breaking through.
“This”—he gestured between them—“this is not going to work out if we keep doing this.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said coldly. “Was I supposed to agree with everything you say?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He hesitated a second too long. “That you’re letting your feelings get in the way.”
“Wow,” Liora went still.
“You jump into things without thinking.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s like you’d rather feel right than actually be right.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” she shot back. “You spent half your life wrecking things and sacred sites because no one told you what you were. Don’t pretend you suddenly have the moral high ground.”
“At least I’m trying to fix things now,” he snapped.
“And I’m trying to protect a child from having her life blown apart,” Liora said sharply. “But I guess subtlety isn’t really your thing.”
“Maybe if you—”
BOOM.
The sound didn’t just echo; it split the air.
Maldenis felt it slam into him, a concussive force that rattled through his chest and up his spine. The ground trembled under him, a low, vibrating shudder that made his instincts flare sharp and immediate.
He and Liora both jerked toward the noise, their argument cut off mid-breath.
The air at the far end of the cul-de-sac warped. Not like heat, like something was forcing its way through. A second crack followed, louder, closer. The space itself seemed to tear open with a jagged ripple, dark energy spilling into the street.
Figures stepped through, not walking but arriving.
Maldenis’s stomach dropped. “Hunters,” he said under his breath.
The creatures straightened as they fully emerged, their forms solidifying as the distortion snapped shut behind them.
Liora’s voice came tight beside him. “What the fuck?”
He didn’t answer. His focus had already shifted because whatever argument they’d been having, it didn’t matter anymore.
A voice cut through the silence. “We’re here for the child.”
A group of figures stepped into view at the far end of the street.
They looked almost human at first glance, but only almost. Their bodies were tall and lean, wrapped in dark leather armor, their faces sharp and predatory.
Their eyes glowed faintly red, and when they moved, Maldenis caught the flick of barbed tails behind them, curling and uncurling like scorpions ready to strike. Manticores, or something close enough.
He felt the shift ripple through their group as everyone registered the threat.
Hektor moved first, flame burst from him in a sharp arc of dragon fire, forcing the front attackers to scatter. The fire hit the stone ground with a roar, leaving black scorch marks across the path.
The hunters lunged anyway, but they didn’t charge like beasts; they moved with unsettling precision.
One second, they were standing still, the next, they blurred forward, bodies low and controlled, striking at coordinated angles rather than in chaos.
Their tails arced behind them, barbed tips poised with deadly intent, while their eyes tracked targets with sharp, calculating focus.
Maldenis clocked it immediately. They were not wild, but highly trained.
His gaze flicked across them, counting, assessing, too many to handle one-on-one if they spread out. Their formation was already shifting: two angling toward Brontaios, one circling wide, another testing the edges of their group, as if looking for the weakest point.
He rushed forward without thinking, placing himself slightly ahead of the others, forcing their attention onto him.
If they were looking for an opening, he wasn’t going to give them one.
His power surged through him as his basilisk nature answered the threat.
His gaze locked onto one of the attackers, and the creature staggered mid-stride, its body seizing as if struck by a petrifying force.
Behind him, Brontaios charged forward with a roar, slamming into another attacker with such sheer brute strength that the impact sent the creature crashing into a stone wall.
The cul-de-sac erupted into chaos: claws flashed, fire roared, and stone cracked beneath heavy blows.
One of the hunters lunged for Maldenis, claws flashing. He pivoted, his body shifting, and his tail snapping out behind him in a sharp, controlled strike. It wrapped around the creature’s torso mid-attack, coiling tight enough to stop it cold. The hunter snarled, twisting violently.
“Got one!” he barked.
“Hold it!” Hektor shouted back.
Maldenis tightened his grip, muscles straining as the creature fought against him, its barbed tail lashing dangerously close.
Then fire hit. Hektor’s dragon fire roared over Maldenis’s shoulder in a concentrated blast, engulfing the trapped hunter. The creature let out a guttural, inhuman scream as the flames consumed it, its form breaking apart into dark fragments before dissolving completely into smoke.
Maldenis released what was left of it, then he scanned the area quickly, forcing himself to take in everything at once.
Brontaios had two of them occupied near the center of the street.
Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked the triplets. Elian, Zara, and Liora had shifted position—subtly, carefully—edging closer to Asterion’s house.
Maldenis exhaled slightly. They weren’t fighters, but they were smart. They were staying out of the direct line of attack, keeping close to where the child was likely inside. Not safe but safer, and that was enough for now.
Another hunter charged, and he turned to meet it just as the door to Asterion’s house burst open, and the minotaur stormed out.
“You brought them here!” he bellowed.
Asterion grabbed the nearest hunter and threw it hard enough to send it skidding across the street before charging into the fight beside them.
The sound of bones crunching and stone cracking filled the cul-de-sac as the monsters continued the fight in full force. Massive bodies slammed into the hunters, horns and fists colliding with brutal efficiency. The intruders moved fast, but Brontaios and Asterion were stronger and angrier.
For a moment, it looked like they might actually push the creatures back. But then the door to Asterion’s home creaked open again.
Maldenis caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and then his focus snapped to it fully.
A small figure stepped into the threshold.
It was the minotaur child. She was slight for her kind, her frame still caught between calf and growth, all long limbs and unsteady strength.
Soft tan fur dusted her skin, lighter along her throat and her arms, and her horns—just beginning to curl—framed a face far too young to be standing in the middle of a battlefield.
Wide, dark eyes flickered with confusion more than fear, as if she hadn’t yet decided how dangerous this was.
Around them, the clash of strength and the crack of magic didn’t slow.
But something in the air shifted anyway, and Maldenis noticed that Asterion felt it.
Even though Asterion was in the middle of driving a hunter back, his grip brutal, his strength undeniable, the instant she stepped into the open, his attention fractured.
His head turned sharply, gaze locking onto the doorway to her.
“Korinnae—no!” Asterion shouted as he turned toward her.
That single moment of distraction was all the attackers needed. One of them struck him across the side, sending the large minotaur crashing into the ground.
For Maldenis, everything slowed, and he saw the exact moment it happened, the twist of Asterion’s body, the spray of soil as he hit, the way the air seemed to ripple with the force of it.
And then the girl froze. Korinnae didn’t scream. Didn’t run.
She just stood there, small and impossibly still in the middle of the chaos, her wide eyes locked on Asterion’s fallen form. The noise of the battle seemed to dull around her, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Maldenis felt it before he saw it, a pressure building, sharp and wrong, like the air before a storm.
The magic detonated.
A blinding burst of light tore from her body, swallowing the space around her in an instant. It wasn’t clean or controlled; it was wild, jagged, unraveling in every direction at once. Power screamed through the air, visible in violent arcs that twisted and snapped like something alive.
The ground beneath her hooves cracked, splintering outward as the force drove down and out, fracturing stone and concrete alike. The shockwave hit a beat later, slamming into Maldenis with enough force to make him brace.
Hunters were thrown back like rag dolls. One of them hit the far wall strong enough to leave a dent before collapsing in a heap. Another tried to push forward, teeth bared, only to be caught in the edge of the surge, his weapon ripped from his hands as the magic tore past him.
At the center of it all, Korinnae stood trembling.