She saw Phoebe first. The Amazon had carved a brutal path through the watchtower, her blade slick with blood. The wolves flanked her like shadows, lunging and snapping at any soldier who dared approach. She’d made it to the gate, now wrestling with the corroded latch, her teeth bared in frustration.
From the second tower, archers nocked arrows, taking aim at Phoebe’s exposed back, but the wolves found them first.
Confident the Amazon would get the gates open in time, Alena let her awareness slide towards the stables. The wolves there had worked themselves into a frenzy, a whirlwind of teeth and fur.
Horses screamed and reared, their hooves slamming against the wooden stalls. Alena winced as the chaos roared in her head.
Her limbs trembled, magic stretched razor-thin. Drawing a shaky breath, she ordered a dozen wolves back through the gap in the barricade and released them. The threads severed one by one, like ropes cut with a knife. Relief followed, but so did a bone-deep weariness.
Then, amid the chaos of the remaining wolves, an orange Mark shimmered from a soldier’s forearm.
The healer.
Alena’s breath caught. Indecision gripped her. She hated leaving Kaixo, but without the healer, San wouldn’t survive.
She made her choice.
“Stay here,” she said, kneeling to press her dagger into Kaixo’s hand. “Apollo will protect you. I’ll be right back.”
His eyes widened with fear, but he nodded. She bent and kissed the top of his head. Then she turned, sword already in hand, and sprinted into the night.
The screams from the stables mingled with the rising wind. Behind her, the armoury tent was a blazing beacon, flames licking high into the dark sky—sure to draw the rest of the camp soon.
She reached the stables where chaos ruled. Horses thrashed, bodies littered the ground—soldiers bloodied and broken. A few survivors scrambled for the panicked horses, their movements clumsy with fear.
Alena scanned their arms, desperate for another glimpse of the orange Mark. Nothing.
A glint caught her eye.
She twisted on instinct, parrying just in time as a blade whistled past her ribs. A soldier lunged, face twisted in rage.
Before she could counter, two wolves crashed into him from either side. He went down hard, his scream strangled in his throat as teeth tore into flesh.
Alena didn’t pause. She kept moving, eyes scanning, sword ready.
Still no sign of the healer.
She ran to the gate where wolves and soldiers clashed in a storm of snarls and steel.
A sharp cry split the air. She wheeled around and spotted a soldier sprawled in the mud, clutching a blood-soaked leg. He waved a torch wildly, trying to keep a growling wolf at bay.
An orange pattern shimmered across his skin.
Hope bloomed through Alena’s chest. She would drag him back and force him to heal San, no matter what.
They were all going to make it out. Alive.
“You!” Alena called out, grasping the few Rhaetic words she knew. “Come!”
The soldier looked up, terror etched across his face.
The wolf snarled, ready to strike, but through their bond, Alena got it to back down.
The healer raised his blade with trembling hands as she approached. “Who are you?” he demanded in Koine.
Alena knocked the weapon from his grip and pressed her blade to his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re a healer, aren’t you?”
The man spat at her feet. “I’m not going anywhere with you, rebel scum.”
