Chapter 4
ChApter
Four
We crest the ridge just before the village, the wind howling in our ears and the scent of smoke already thick in the air. But it isn’t the fire that first catches my attention. It’s movement—fast and low—at the edge of my vision.
I snap my head to the side.
Wolves.
Dozens of them. Their lean bodies streak through the trees like shadows come to life, silent save for the thrum of their paws against the earth.
They run parallel to us, matching our pace with unnerving precision.
Their coats range from pale silver to deep black, and their eyes gleam gold in the moonlight.
Not one of them looks at us. Not one breaks formation. They know where they’re going.
“They’re back,” I whisper, breath clouding in front of me.
As if answering me, howls erupt into the air.
Aila turns in her saddle, eyes widening as she takes in the sight. “Gods,” she breathes. “There are more of them than last time.”
She’s right. I remember the wolves at Ivystone—how they emerged from the trees and fought at our side during the siege. A full pack of them had come at the time, but I feel as if the pack has tripled in size.
Something stirs deep in my chest, knowing that a bond exists between the wolves and fae. Ezra taught me about the connection during one of my lessons. And I can’t help but feel as if I’ve known, somewhere deep inside of me, that that bond had always been there.
But I still don’t know if that means they answer to me.
One of the larger wolves glances my way, its coat a burnished grey, eyes like molten gold. A quiet understanding passes between us. They know what’s coming. They’ve come to fight.
We thunder into the valley, the wolves keeping pace, and the first shouts rise through the trees.
We arrive at Robinburg to a scene that has my heart thrashing in my throat.
The village is already ablaze—not from the carnoraxis, but from the villagers themselves.
In their attempt to thwart the beasts, the fire has spread and grown out of control.
Flames curl along the edges of thatched rooftops, licking at the night.
Smoke thickens the air, causing every breath to clog my lungs.
Shadows move in the chaos, figures darting, weapons flashing.
And then, unnatural movement. The hulking, sinewy forms of the carnoraxis tear through the village, their emaciated bodies twisting as they lunge for their prey.
The villagers are fighting back, but they are no match for the beasts. And the tsar has made it clear that anyone who stands in the way of his hunt for third-born fae will be slain for their efforts.
One of the men lunges forward with a torch while the group with him takes cover, but the carnoraxis swipes the torch out of his grasp. The man falters, and it only take a second for the carnoraxis to rip into him with his jagged teeth.
Fuck!
A gust of wind whips past, nearly knocking me off my feet as I dismount.
I spot a young girl standing in the town square, hands lifted, eyes aglow as she wrestles with the air itself.
Fae. With air-wielding powers. The blast slams into a carnoraxis, forcing the creature back on its haunches, but the effort clearly costs her.
Her arms tremble, her power already waning.
Nearby, a man throws out a burst of fire, searing the claws of another beast before it swipes at him. He ducks, but not fast enough. Its talons rake across his shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground.
They’re trying. Fighting with everything they have. But it won’t be enough.
“Move!” I snap, charging forward, my sword drawn.
My squad surges into the battle, and the wolves rush in so quickly, I can’t track their movements.
Aila and Giorgi have already leapt from their saddles, blades flashing as they cut through the smoke.
Isaac covers them, loosing arrows with brutal precision, the shafts sinking deep into the snarling beasts.
Mylo roars as he throws himself into the fray, his sword carving a path through the carnoraxis closing in on the struggling fae girl.
An echoing scream rings out to our left.
It doesn’t come from the villagers.
Lorne stands near the edge of the skirmish, one hand raised, his fingers curved like he’s clutching invisible threads.
The scream bends midair, warping and soaring toward the far end of the square.
A cluster of carnoraxis jerks their heads in that direction, drawn by the illusion of fresh prey.
Snarling, they veer off-course, allowing Aila to drive her blade cleanly through the exposed side of another beast’s throat.
A second sound follows—footsteps pounding across flagstones, panicked gasps—and the creatures give chase, unaware they’re pursuing nothing but smoke and sound. The moment of distraction gives us just enough time.
And then the wolves descend.
They crash into the carnoraxis from the flanks, claws tearing, jaws snapping.
The beasts recoil in surprise, their unnatural shrieks echoing through the village.
A black-furred wolf leaps onto the back of one of them, sinking its teeth into the creature’s spine.
Another lunges beneath a carnoraxis, tearing its leg out from under it.
The tide begins to shift.
I stare for half a heartbeat, awestruck by the savagery and precision of the wolves’ assault. They’re not just fighting. They’re coordinated. Tactical.
A burst of light flashes to my left. Isaac shoots flaming bolts from his crossbow, the one my eye follows piercing into the back of a beast stalking one of the children.
“Let’s finish this,” I mutter, charging into the firelit chaos.
I don’t stop to think. I race hard into the village square, my heart pounding, my pulse a war drum in my ears.
Dante is right behind me, sword in hand. “The fire is out of hand. We need to get the villagers clear!”
He’s right. They’re fighting bravely, but they’re scattered, uncoordinated. And the buildings around us are falling apart from the flames. If we don’t intervene, they’ll be ripped apart or consumed by the fire before the night is through.
A carnoraxis wheels toward me, its sunken, black eyes gleaming. I meet its charge, twisting my body at the last second to avoid its swipe before I bury my sword deep into its ribs. A piercing shriek. A spray of blood. And then I’m turning, searching for the next enemy.
A scream pierces through the chaos. High-pitched. Desperate.
I spin toward the sound, checking to see if it’s merely another of Lorne’s illusions.
My pulse spikes as my gaze snaps to a house already half-consumed by fire.
Smoke billows from the windows, black against the night sky, but through the shifting haze, I see him.
A boy, no older than eleven, clutching the ledge of an upstairs window, his face streaked with soot, his mouth open in a wordless cry for help.
He’s trapped.
Dante sees him too. “Shit,” he mutters, already moving, but the flames are spreading fast, licking at the timber walls, devouring the lower floor. There’s no way up from the inside.
My eyes flick to the trellis climbing the side of the house, its ivy-wrapped latticework trembling in the heat. It won’t hold forever, but it doesn’t have to.
I sprint forward, sheathing my sword in one fluid motion before grasping the trellis and hauling myself up. The wood groans beneath my weight, but I ignore it, my muscles burning as I climb. The heat singes my skin, smoke stinging my eyes, but I grit my teeth and keep moving.
The boy spots me, his wide eyes shimmering with terror. “Please,” he chokes out. “I-I can’t—”
“You can,” I say firmly. “I need you to climb onto the ledge. Can you do that?”
He nods frantically, his small hands scrambling for purchase as he inches forward. I’m nearly there. Just a little higher—
A guttural snarl splits the night.
I twist just as a carnoraxis bursts into view below, its sunken eyes gleaming, its elongated limbs moving with unnatural speed. It’s seen me. It knows I’m trapped.
And it’s coming.
My fingers curl around the hilt of my dagger, heart hammering.
No time to hesitate. I whip the blade through the air, sending it spinning straight for the beast’s throat.
The dagger sinks deep, its jeweled hilt catching the firelight for a split second before blood sprays from the creature’s neck.
It staggers back with a strangled hiss, its claws swiping at the wound as dark ichor spills down its chest.
It won’t die from that. Not right away. But I’ve bought myself seconds.
“Now!” I bark at the boy.
He whimpers but obeys, scrambling onto the ledge just as I reach him. The trellis wobbles violently, the heat from the flames nearly unbearable now. I grab his arm and pull him against me, bracing for the descent.
And then the trellis gives way.
We drop. The world tilts—wind whipping past my face—before I twist midair, forcing us sideways. We hit the ground hard, my back slamming against the dirt, my arms tight around the boy to shield him.
I barely get a breath in before I hear the ragged breathing.
The carnoraxis is still alive. And it’s furious.
I shove the boy toward Dante, who’s already rushing forward. “Take him!”
Dante catches him without question, but his gaze locks on mine, tight with concern. My senses tell me he’s about to charge in to help me, but another beast appears at his back. Dante’s falchion slices toward the aggressor.
I don’t let myself linger because the carnoraxis I’ve thrown my dagger at lurches, dark blood still leaking from its throat. Its eyes are locked on me, hungry and wild. I rise to meet it, drawing my sword in one smooth motion, my muscles thrumming with adrenaline.
It lunges. I sidestep. Its claws rake empty air where my ribs had been a breath ago.
I pivot, blade flashing, and drive my sword deep into its chest. The beast lets out a keening wail, its talons twitching as the last of its strength ebbs away.
Blood bubbles at its grey lips before it finally crumples, its weight crashing into the dirt.
I exhale sharply, the pounding in my ears slowing as I step forward, yanking my dagger from its throat before wiping both blades clean.
Dante is still holding the boy, his expression unreadable as he watches me. A fallen carnoraxis, sliced in two, lays at his feet.
When an eerie whistle pierces the air, I whip my head around.
Isaac stands atop an overturned cart, his crossbow steady as he takes aim at the beast charging toward Aila.
She’s quick, dodging its initial swipe, but it’s closing in too fast. Too close.
With a sharp twang, Isaac’s arrow flies true, burying itself deep in the carnoraxis’s eye socket with a sickening crunch.
The creature staggers, clawing at its ruined face before it collapses to the ground, motionless.
Aila, panting, doesn’t even spare Isaac a glance as she lifts her sword and plunges it into another carnoraxis at her feet. “About damn time, Isaac.”
Isaac reloads smoothly, shaking sweat from his brow. “You’re welcome.”
Not far from them, Mylo bellows as he lifts a dying beast off its feet, shoving it back into the smoldering wreckage of a cart.
The wood creaks, splinters—then the weight of the beast sends it crashing into the blaze.
The fire engulfs it instantly, a shriek tearing from its throat before it finally goes silent.
Mylo turns back to the fight, his blade already swinging, already searching for another enemy. But there aren’t many left.
The larger wolves in the pack growl at the remaining carnoraxis. The monsters, sensing their dwindling numbers, begin to retreat—some limping, others scrambling into the trees, their gaunt forms swallowed by the darkness.
It’s over.
Not won, not really. Too many homes are in ruins. Too many bodies lie still in the dirt, their blood turning the soil dark. All I can think is it could have been worse.