Chapter 118
I feel the whisper of her transformation brush against my face, a reminder of the primal power at her command. She drops to the snow, her leopard form sleek and deadly, muscles coiled and ready to pounce. She is beautiful and powerful.
My own magic stirs beneath my skin, a thrumming pulse of energy that quickens in response to the chaos unfolding around us.
I can feel it licking at my senses, eager to be unleashed, but I force myself to stay grounded.
Valric, riding hard behind Raiden and Zaria, lets loose a barrage of arrows, each one finding its mark with unerring precision.
One of the ogres staggers, an arrow embedded deep in its neck.
It stumbles but doesn’t fall, not until Raiden descends from above, sword flashing as he drives the blade through the back of the ogre’s neck, severing its spinal cord in a brutal final blow.
The beast crumples to the ground, lifeless, as the others continue their charge.
Nero is a blur of movement over the white snow, his powerful form eating up the distance in no time.
Tristan and Kian flank me, their swords drawn as our horses dance back and forth in agitation.
Two ogres break free from the fight, their heavy footfalls shaking the earth as they lumber toward us.
Tristan and Kian move forward in unison, creating a barrier between me and the approaching threat.
Kian glances back over his shoulder, his expression lit with a dangerous sort of amusement.
“Ready?” The word is filled with an almost boyish enthusiasm that belies the danger before us.
“Sure.” I grip the reins tightly with trembling hands.
The ogres don’t slow. Their beady eyes gleam with malice as they close the distance, their guttural snarls growing louder. The air feels charged, heavy with the promise of violence.
Kian shifts his weight slightly, settling into a fighting stance. “Good.”
Something nags at the edge of my awareness as I watch the ogres get closer.
Nymeria and Anika went ahead earlier, scouting the area, and we haven’t heard from them since.
My heart skips a beat as I stretch out my senses, searching for them amidst the chaos.
I close my eyes, allowing the snowy landscape to fill my mind, sweeping my magic across the terrain.
The cold bites at my skin, but I try to focus on finding my wolves.
There.
Several miles ahead, I find them perched on a rocky outcrop. My connection with them flickers, and I press harder, my magic circling them like an insistent hand, tugging them back toward me.
Return. I demand silently, sending the pulse of my will through the bond we share.
The faint hum of their acknowledgment fills the bond, a subtle shift in their focus as they begin to make their way back, their howls floating on the breeze.
The sound of a low growl snaps my attention back to the battle.
Zaria’s leopard form springs forward, claws slashing through the air as she tears into an ogre’s side, her movements fluid and lethal.
Valric’s arrows rain down with deadly accuracy, and Tristan and Kian stand like stone, swords ready to cut down anything that gets too close.
My magic crackles beneath my skin, begging to be used, but I hold back, waiting for the right moment. My fingers curl around the hilt of my sword, and I unclip the cloak from my neck, letting it fall from my shoulders.
I slip from Storm’s back, my boots landing in the snow.
Tristan’s attention darts over his shoulder at me and his eyes widen. “Everly, get back on the horse!”
Ignoring him, I focus on the task at hand and draw my sword from its sheath in a single smooth motion. The wind picks up around me, tearing at my clothes and whipping strands of my hair across my face. The icy sting is a distant ache, drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I bring my gloved hand to my mouth, biting down on the fingertip with more force than necessary, and yank the glove free. The cold bites at my exposed skin, like little needles, but I welcome it.
Crouching low in the snow, I dig my bare fingers into the frozen ground, feeling the earth tremble beneath my touch.
Valric told me I don’t need physical contact to summon my magic, that I am strong enough to call it forth without it. But it’s easier this way, the connection more immediate, more visceral. And right now, I need that. I need the surge of control, the pulse of power at my fingertips.
My fingers curl into the snow as I glare at the approaching ogres, my breath fogging the air in quick, determined puffs. The rage I’ve been holding back since the attack on Skora ignites within me, and my magic rises from deep in my core, bursting outward.
It’s raw, unrestrained, a fierce energy that flows from me and sinks into the ground beneath.
The earth responds.
The ground quakes in rhythm with my heartbeat, a deep rumble that spreads in every direction.
I sense my magic threading through the soil, a pulse of life and power that thrums beneath my fingertips.
The horses nearby shift nervously, hooves stamping as they feel the tremors.
They sense the power, too, their bodies tense and uneasy as they dance back and forth, uncertain.
The ogres are close now, their guttural growls filling the air, their massive fists clenching as they prepare to attack. But I’m ready. The earth beneath them shifts, and for the first time, I see hesitation in their eyes, a flicker of doubt as they sense the power rising from the ground.
I smirk, letting them feel that fear, letting them know that they’ve walked into something far greater than they anticipated.
The cold snow melts beneath my hand, a thin layer of frost giving way as my magic takes root.
It spreads through the earth like wildfire, unseen but felt, growing stronger with every second.
And then, with a long calm exhale, I let it go.
The ground erupts.
Jagged spears of earth shoot up from the snow, aimed directly at the ogres’ path.
The force is immediate, and the ogres scramble to dodge the deadly spikes.
But they’re too slow. One of them is impaled, the earth piercing through its thick, meaty body with a sickening crunch.
The other roars in fury, losing its momentum, faltering under the sudden assault.
I rise from my crouch, magic still humming in my veins.
The other ogres have ceased their battle, their eyes fixated on me—a blend of fear and morbid curiosity etched upon their brutish faces.
Then, with a deafening roar that shakes the very mountains, the ogres abandon their fight with my friends.
As they charge toward me, the ground trembles beneath their massive feet.
Lifting my palm up in a sweeping motion, I send a fierce gust of wind barreling into the remaining ogres. They stop their charge, lifting their arms to try to block the onslaught of snow and wind.
I walk forward, anger singing in my veins, ready to take on the remaining four ogres. Raiden and Zaria are already engaging one, Valric another, as the two stragglers come for us. Adrenaline sings through me, and I tighten my grip on my sword, my teeth clenched.
Suddenly, my mating bond flares to life, a foreign magic stirring in my blood. My steps falter in the snow as I draw it to the surface, curious. A fiery path of magic trails down my arm, engulfing my sword in flames. I lift it, turning it in my hand.
Did I somehow summon Maxon’s fire, did he open the bond for me, sharing his dragon’s fire?
I don’t have time to think about it as two ogres are on Tristan and Kian, swinging their fists with the fury of a demon. Kian is knocked from his horse and Tristan jumps, launching himself, sword raised at the ogre.
A rush of adrenaline has me running, the ground lifting to meet me, pushing me forward.
While the beast is focused on Tristan, I lift my sword, slicing at the backs of his knees.
The sword surprisingly cuts clean through the flesh, the ogre instantly falling to the ground.
My sword sings, demanding more, the flames burning brighter than before.
With a snarl, the ogre rolls over, ready to launch itself at me when Tristan's sword pierces through its chest.
I spin around frantically, searching for Kian.
My stomach lurches when I see him pinned beneath the last ogre, its massive body crushing him into the snow.
His sword is knocked from his hand, his form struggling against the weight.
I falter as I watch him lose the battle.
Panic pounds through me and my vision tunnels, adrenaline surging like wildfire in my veins.
Before I even register the movement, I’m closing the distance in a blur.
My sword is already raised, and with a scream of raw fury, I drive it into the ogre’s back, straight through its heart.
The beast lets out a guttural roar, its body jerking violently as flames erupt from the wound, consuming it in seconds. I scream again, my anger ripping through the cold, as the ogre’s body rolls off Kian and crumbles, disintegrating into ash and embers.
Panting, I sink to my knees in the snow. My body trembling from the exertion, my sword falls from my grip, the flames extinguished as quickly as they appeared.
The cold snow seeps into my clothes, but I barely notice it. My lungs heave as I try to catch my breath. My pulse is still pounding, the adrenaline refusing to ebb, and I can feel the aftershocks of my magic pulsing beneath my skin.
For a moment, I just kneel here, staring at the ash and the snow, my mind struggling to process what just happened.
The sound of wings flapping overhead pulls me back, and I glance up just in time to see Raiden landing beside me.
His wings fold against his back, and the warmth of his presence is a stark contrast to the cold biting at my exposed skin.
He kneels next to me, his hand landing gently on my back, a reassuring weight that grounds me.
"Are you okay?" Raiden's voice is low, concerned, but steady.
I nod, unable to speak just yet. My throat is raw from screaming, my pulse still thundering in my ears. I can feel his eyes on me, the heat of his hand spreading through my body, chasing away the lingering cold.
“Kian?” The sound of Zaria’s worried voice has my head snapping up. She’s kneeling in the snow next to Kian, tapping his face lightly, but he remains motionless.
I scramble to my feet, sinking in the snow as I stagger over to him and fall to my knees by his side. His face is paler than normal, and his breathing shallow. I lean over him, cupping his face.
“Kian?”
“Those ogres were ready for war,” Tristan murmurs. “I’ve never seen any behave so bloodthirsty.”
Valric steps up behind me, his shadow falling over me with Nero by his side in human form.
Tears prick my eyes, and I grit my teeth, tasting the salt of frustration on my tongue.
My magic is growing again, a heat that feels both familiar and foreign simmering beneath the surface.
I command it to spread, to reach out and search for injuries, for anything to mend.
I try to summon that same unthinking focus I had with Nova.
Back then, I didn’t even notice I was using magic.
It was effortless, instinctual—a simple thought transformed into action without hesitation or control.
But this time, it’s different. My mind is too aware, too burdened by doubt and desperation. The warmth in my body pulses, but it doesn’t reach where I need it. The magic feels trapped, stubbornly refusing to move beyond my skin.
“It’s not working,” I mutter, frustration tainting my voice.
“What’s not working?” Zaria lays a hand on my arm.
“I healed Nova after the attack on the way to the Evergreens. Maxon told me to keep it a secret. I just . . . I don’t know how I did it.”
Zaria’s warm brown eyes widen, and she blinks. “You can heal?”
I shrug, looking back down to Kian. “Maybe the first time was a fluke.”
Valric grunts next to me. “Was no fluke, My Queen.”
I look over my shoulder at him in confusion. “What?”
“Your mother was a healer. She would often wander the forest in search of injured animals or sick trees and give them the boost they needed. But it comes at a price.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this during training?” I demand.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve healed before?” he volleys back immediately.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. “Touche,” I finally concede. “Well then, how do I heal him?”
“He will heal on his own in a few hours,” Valric utters simply, turning and making his way over to the horses.
I sit here stunned for a second before jumping to my feet and charging after him.
“Valric!”
“Yes, Your Majesty?” He spins around so fast I almost crash into him.
“How do I heal him?”
“You don’t.”
“But–”
“He will live. You shouldn’t waste your energy on healing him. There will be more battles to come.”