Lara’s breath stopped. Tattered wings spread wide. Hungry eyes fixed on her. Reaching—
Twin iron blades flashed. The wraith screamed and wheeled away.
Alar.
He crouched low over Reedav’s back, daggers moving in brutal arcs. His face was set in hard lines, eyes scanning constantly.
He was always there. Every time something came too close, every time the circle threatened to break, he appeared.
The Fuath hit their flank. Webbed hands tried to rake and claw their way through.
Bracken faltered and reared, a terrified whinny tearing from her throat. Lara grabbed the mare’s mane with her free hand, thighs clamping down. With her other hand, she slashed and stabbed at shadows.
Bree’s sword cut through a bog wight. Foul-smelling water broke over them. Her warder moved fast, her blade never still, her body always between Lara and danger.
“Stay close!” Bree’s voice cut through the roar. “Don’t let them in!”
Still, the wraiths came, crashing upon them. Wave after wave.
But they were moving forward. Step by brutal step, they pushed through the sea that boiled around the base of The Shattered Crown.
Lara’s gaze swept right. Just a few yards away, Mor fought viciously—her blade singing—while her Ravens remained in formation around her.
Cailean’s tattoos blazed silver as he slashed and stabbed. Skaal tore through bog wights with savage joy.
And Alar was there too—to her left—carving space, creating gaps, and driving back anything that came too close to her.
Her protector.
The realization pressed down on her chest, uncomfortable and undeniable.
A boggart lunged from nowhere. Long fingers reached for Annis. The counselor screamed—
Vyr’s blade took the sprite’s head. It crumpled. He wheeled his elk around, putting himself between the Marav and the next wave.
The circle stretched. Lara could feel it—the distance growing between Shee and Marav. Earth magic and iron drove them apart even as they fought to stay together.
The sky had gone fully dark now, but the moon was rising, and its light frosted the stones ahead.
The Shattered Crown.
So close.
But the spirits sensed it too. They sensed their prey escaping. The press intensified. The Slew dove in waves now, one after another after another. Fuath poured from the loch. Boggarts erupted from every shadow.
Panic hammered into her breast. There were too many.
Alar fought to her right now. His movements were starting to slow, just enough that she noticed. Blood ran down his arm. His chest heaved with each breath.
He was tiring. They all were.
A Slew broke through.
Not at her. At Ren.
The bard froze, eyes wide, her song rising to a scream. The wraith’s hands reached for her face—
Lara moved without thinking.
