Alar’s pulse exploded.They’re all here.
“Boggarts!” Sablebane’s shout cut through the chaos.
Sallow-skinned figures with bloodshot eyes erupted from the shadows. They carried no weapons. They didn’t need them, for boggarts had long fingers that could snap bone like dry twigs.
The trows and powries hit the first wave. The impact punched through Alar’s chest. A heartbeat later, earth magic detonated around him like lightning striking a tree. It woke the wolf in his blood, set every nerve singing with borrowed power.
Reedav surged forward. Alar gripped with his knees, leaning into the charge as darkness rushed up to swallow them. The imps took the brunt—powrie curses mixing with trow war-cries. Blades bit into shadow.
Then the sky fell.
Slew poured down like black rain. Ice-breath blasted Alar’s face, stealing the air from his lungs. Wings were everywhere—blotting out the sky. Spectral hands reached, grasping, desperate for warm flesh.
Mor struck first. The Raven Queen’s blade carved through wraith-flesh. Vyr flanked her left, Sablebane her right. Steel sang through the air.
One Slew dove straight for them. It had long snarled hair and tattered robes that might have been burial shrouds.
Alar pushed himself up onto Reedav’s back, knees locked, and leaped. His daggers slashed in crossing arcs. Iron swept through shadow-flesh. The Slew shrieked and wheeled away, trailing smoke.
Alar landed hard, nearly losing his seat, and caught himself.
But there was no time to recover, for the Fuath crashed into their circle.
A brackish stench hit him first—rot and stagnant water and things that lived in dark places. Teeth snapped. Webbed hands clawed. Mor’s longsword cleaved through the first bog wight. Around her, Ravens hacked at slippery bodies that wouldn’t stay down. Fern’s blade was a silver blur.
Alar’s pulse leaped.Keep the circle tight.
But they were slowing. Spirits pressed from all sides. Even the trows and powries up ahead were struggling, their war-cries turning ragged.
He fought on instinct. His body knew what to do even as his mind tracked something else.
Lara.Always to his right. Always within reach. She gripped her iron dagger fiercely, flanked by Bree and Cailean with Ren, Annis, and Ruari thundering at her heel. Brave. All of them.
A Slew dove. Alar’s blade caught it mid-flight, driving it back. Another came. He sliced through shadow, felt resistance, and twisted the blade. The wraith dissolved into smoke.
His arms were starting to burn. How long had they been fighting? He’d lost track. Time had fractured into heartbeats and blade-strikes.
The light died. Indigo bled across the sky, deepening to black. The moon rose, riding high and cold above them.
They inched forward, every foot gained with effort. Spirits howled around them, screams layering over screams.
Alar’s world narrowed to the space around Lara.Protect her. Keep her moving. Don’t let anything through.
Silver light broke through the clouds and frosted the jagged stones ahead.
The Shattered Crown. Right there. Close enough to see the individual standing stones.
Lara’s thighs burned from gripping Bracken’s sides. The mare lunged forward, hooves pounding stone and earth in a rhythm that matched her own hammering pulse.
Around her, the world had turned to chaos.
The din threatened to split her skull apart. Slew screeches. Powrie war-cries that set her teeth on edge. The wet sounds of blades finding slippery bog wight flesh.
She clutched her iron dagger so hard her fingers ached. It felt too small and light in her hand. What good would one blade do against this tide of darkness?
Movement to her left caught her eye. Ren rode close now, right behind Bree, her face pale but focused, lips moving in constant song. The bard’s voice wove through the chaos, a lifeline Lara clung to. Twisting, Lara caught sight of Annis hunched low over her pony’s neck. Next to the counselor, Ruari’s eyes were too wide, too white.
A Slew dove.
