“No. There will be more.” Jet whispered.
The air turned cold, sharp enough to sting. A ripple of dread crawled up my spine.
Zane flicked blood from his blade. “If that was their best?—"
“That I very much doubt.” Deshawn shook his head.
A slow clap cut through the clearing.
Ubel Brummond himself.
He looked at the bodies scattered across the earth with mild disappointment. “Well,” he sighed, “that was faster than expected.”
Zane’s nostrils flared, fire rippling across his palms. “Come closer. I dare you.”
Ubel barely looked at him. His eyes were on me. “Aurathion healing kicking in… bond restored… and somehow you still survived the Varruk.” His smile sharpened. “You’re evolving.”
My stomach twisted. “Go straight to hell.”
“Don’t worry, little Hawthorne.” He smiled evilly. “It’s not as though you killed them.”
He lifted one hand.
Just a flick of his fingers.
The fallen soldiers began to jerk.
My breath caught.
One by one, corpses rolled to their knees—armor scraping, bones cracking. Eyes that should have been shut for good snapped open, milky and wrong. A man whose throat had been slashed open gurgled as he stood, head lolling at an impossible angle, sword hanging from limp fingers.
Jet stumbled back. “What the fuck?!”
Chloe whimpered, and Oliver stepped in front of her at the ready.
“They don’t need breath to serve,” Ubel murmured. “They only need me.”
He twitched his wrist.
The dead charged.
Not human.Fuckingzombies.
Pantar lunged, knocking the first one back. Zane roared and half-shifted, wings ripping open the air. Zeke’s ice exploded outward in jagged shards. Kharox slashed with teeth and nails.
I should have attacked, too.
But something inside me locked on the dead—something ancient and furious.
They didn’t want to fight.
They wanted to be released.
And suddenly, I could feel it.
Not their bodies.
Theirsouls.
