What in the hell is this thing made of…fumes and blood-laced tar?
The creature didn’t scream, but it turned its face, mouth gaping too wide, eyes bleeding smoke, and its gaze locked on Jakobav.
Thane moved to intercept.
It lunged again, gliding past Thane’s guard easily, as if he weren’t a warrior almost as massive as the creature.
Savina moved next, her blade cutting deep across its thigh—another gush of smoke-thick fluid spilling out—yet it did not falter, its speed belonging to something far beyond flesh. It crashed into Jakobav, claws bared, striking hard enough that the crack of bone rang so loud the courtyard seemed to flinch. He seemed to brace himself before he twisted and slammed the thing back against the wall of the gatehouse, rock booming with the impact.
“Jake!” Thane’s voice rang out.
Maeren’s hand cut a quick gesture, obsidian spiking from the cobbles to clutch the creature’s ankle. It held for a moment, long enough for Jakobav to move away, then it wrenched free with terrifying force, tearing the rock loose as though pulling weeds from soil.
Still it came for Jakobav with unwavering focus.
“Gods, that bastard only wants to fight Jake. I’m offended,” Thane growled, blades flashing as the monster nearly clipped Jakobav’s arm.
Bryn tossed a vial that burst green fire across its shoulder, the flames sizzling but refusing to catch. He was already digging for another, muttering under his breath, “Well, that’s new—and I’ve seen a lot of weird shit.”
The creature paid no heed to Bryn’s alchemy nor to Savina’s blade. It just shoved through Jakobav’s defenses as if built for this single task. The noise from that thing vibrated out in a pulse that made her ribs hum.
Ella hovered at the fringe of the fight, reading every movement, searching for an opening—though none appeared. If the First Guard couldn’t pull its focus, then what in the hell was she supposed to do?
It was locked on Jakobav like a starving animal finding a feast.
Was it because of the ripple he opened in the garden?
The horn had signaled the breach immediately after he’d accidentally cut her and borrowed her Threadwalking ability. Her gut dropped, dread pooling low as the pieces knit together in her mind.
The garden.
The drop of blood he’d taken from her.
Is the creature after my blood?
It couldn’t be that. She had more on her than he did. If it were her blood alone, the creature would be coming for her.
But it wasn’t.
She tracked its movements, every lunge and recoil, searching for a pattern.
The creature’s gaze wasn’t on him at all, but fixed on the pocket at his side.
Her breath caught as the truth hit—it was following the scent of her arousal. Her undergarments were covered with it—and currently in his pocket.
What. The. Fuck.
She could only guess, but every instinct screamed: her scent had become a beacon, one the creature had latched onto obsessively, calling to it as it hunted.
Why her? Why in the hell would anyone send such a vile thing after her?
She flinched—not from the creature, but because Jakobav was taking the hits meant for her, and he was getting hurt. Badly.
Guilt and vulnerability tangled in her chest until her breathing thinned.
The courtyard clanged with steel and churned with strange smoke, thick enough to choke on. Ella hovered near the fight, no space to intervene, uselessness clawing at her and feeding the guilt already gnawing inside her.
First Guard pressed in together, years of practice evident in the rhythm of how they fought: Maeren striking with living stone, Thane a force at her side, Savina with her brutal finesse, Soren vanishing from the ground to reappear where he was most needed.
