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 aroundthe 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.
