Chapter 3
"There it is again. Blue, this time."
Giles stood inside his Territory, ringed by mountains, and watched a cold blue glow spread across the sky.
He had no idea what was happening out there, but dread settled in his gut.
Ever since absorbing Simon's werewolf bloodline, he'd carried an instinctive sense for danger. The light over the Frostlands made his skin crawl with a cold that had nothing to do with snow and ice.
Something was wrong.
He looked down at his arm. The skin had darkened, and coarse hair bristled along it as his body began shifting toward its werewolf form.
His bloodline was reacting on its own.
Danger was coming.
"What the hell is that?"
Giles had no concealment abilities. His only protection was the basin where Simon had built this Territory, tucked between steep mountain ridges.
It made the settlement hard to spot.
Nothing more.
If a serious threat came looking, Giles knew he wouldn't stand a chance.
And yet his first impulse wasn't to run.
It was to investigate.
Is that the bloodline talking?
He couldn't say—but the urge only grew stronger.
The blue glow had begun to pulse above the horizon. Giles suspected it marked the emergence of some powerful treasure.
Then another thought struck him.
If he reached the site first and brought Lilith useful intelligence, he could finally prove his worth.
Like Bonnie, Giles understood his own limitations.
He would never survive in this world on strength alone. His best chance was to attach himself to someone powerful.
The difference was that Bonnie had thrown in with Lilith before fully understanding what she was capable of.
Giles had made his decision after seeing her power firsthand.
Unfortunately, Lilith didn't seem to value him at the moment.
She was powerful, captivating, and surrounded by exceptional people. Giles was painfully ordinary, with little to offer beyond his Artisan talent and a handful of useful creations.
That was why he had stayed in the Frostlands instead of leaving.
He was waiting for a chance to prove he was worth keeping around.
Now that chance had come.
The omen's too big for Lilith to miss—but I'm much closer. I can get her information before anyone else.
The thought steadied his nerves.
Simon's bloodline had strengthened him considerably. Giles doubted anything out there could kill him quickly.
And if he did end up cornered by something like a Frost Sabertooth, he could still call Lilith for help.
From their few encounters, he had learned one thing about her.
When Lilith gave her word, she kept it.
But he didn't want to lean on that promise.
If he had to beg her for a rescue, he could kiss any chance of joining her goodbye.
Lilith had no use for dead weight.
"You can do this, Giles."
He was not a brave man by nature.
But if taking this risk could earn him a place at Lilith's side, he was willing to try.
Giles drew on the werewolf bloodline.
His body swelled, bones shifting beneath his skin, until a massive gray wolf stood where he had been.
Then he raced into the night.
The source of the omen lay far more distant than he had expected.
His wolf form shrugged off the darkness and the bitter cold, and he made good speed across the snow. Even so, he ran for hours without finding anything.
By then, vampires had already entered the Frostlands from the west, and several other factions were closing in.
None of them moved as fast as the region's native Frost Sabertooths.
The moment the omen appeared, Frost Sabertooth forces had poured out of strongholds across the Frostlands, all converging on a single destination.
Their presence in the south was weaker.
Lilith had already destroyed their largest stronghold in that area, leaving only a small squad of Veteran-ranked Frost Sabertooths at a neighboring outpost.
That happened to be the very direction Giles was coming from.
By sheer luck, he met no Frost Sabertooths on the way.
He saw no other living creatures, either.
He ran through a frozen wasteland so silent and empty it felt like the end of the world.
Giles didn't slow down.
If anything, the isolation hardened his resolve.
Hours later, as he passed the foot of a towering mountain, his ears twitched.
Beneath the scream of the wind, he heard fighting.
Something's happening.
Giles stopped at once and dropped low, trying to smother his presence.
The sound was coming from the mountain ahead.
Near its base, half-buried under drifting snow, yawned the mouth of a cavern.
Giles knew enough about Frost Sabertooths to recognize one of their dens.
The fighting was coming from inside.
Another Lord? Or a native race?
He couldn't imagine what would willingly attack a Frost Sabertooth den.
He had been traveling north for hours now. Even without knowing the omen's exact source, he had to be getting close.
This battle might be connected to it.
"If I can learn anything from this..."
He crept toward the cave.
This wasn't blind recklessness.
After absorbing Simon's bloodline, Giles had broken through to Veteran Rank. He trusted his new strength, and even if he couldn't win a fight, the werewolf bloodline gave him the speed and resilience to escape one.
The closer he got, the clearer the battle became.
No voices.
Only snarls, heavy impacts, and claws tearing through flesh.
That told Giles the Frost Sabertooths were fighting some other kind of beast, not an organized, intelligent race.
Some of the tension bled out of him.
If the attackers had been humanoid, he would have seriously considered turning around on the spot.
Then he caught a familiar scent.
The freezing wind scattered it before he could place the source.
Curiosity drew him closer.
Using the blowing snow as cover, Giles reached the cave mouth and peered inside.
The moment he saw what was happening within, his eyes went wide.
"That's impossible..."