Jakobav was at the center, his sword a shield between the monster’s reaching hands and the pocket that betrayed him. Blood darkened his shirt. Too much of it was his, yet his stance never faltered.
Ella’s chest cracked open with the sight. The breach still churned behind the creature, its edges fraying wider with every second it lingered here. If this thing had been sent, there might be more, and whoever commanded it was likely watching closely. She moved at the thought, needing to be useful, to help, raising her weapon and lunging into the chaos.
“Ella,” Jakobav growled, looking back. “Stay behind me.”
“Not a chance,” she answered, sliding right, her blade angling to close his blind spot.
The monster struck again and Jakobav parried, but the second hit landed hard against his shoulder. The wet rip of tearing flesh carried across the stone. He grunted but held.
Thane cursed and drove his blade deep, a cut that should have felled any mortal or beast. Savina slashed its hamstring, but the creature spun, backhanding her with a force that sent her skidding bloody across cobbles. She rolled, teeth bared in a smile that promised pain in return. “I’m fine,” she spat. “Keep it busy.”
Soren vanished, his body dissolving into earth. He rose behind the beast, arms clamping around its throat, trying to drag it down. Smoke bled against his grip, but still the creature strained forward, its red leaking eyes locked unerringly on Jakobav’s pocket. Every feint, every strike curved back toward him. Soren’s eyes swiveled from Jakobav’s pocket and then back to the creature.
“Jake,” Soren said, moving to cover him, quiet and calm even in the chaos. “Drop it. Whatever you’re guarding is not worth your life.”
Soren vanished from its flank and rose beside Jakobav with one hand already outstretched, as if ready to tear the pocket free for drawing death to his commander.
The thing lunged faster than it had moved all night. Soren caught its forearm and twisted, tendons popping under his grip until it gave with a wet crack.
This was her opening. The creature’s head cocked again like it was listening, scenting, and she cut in hard from its blind side. Her blade drove up beneath its jaw and punched out near the ear, a clean line of steel that sent a sheet of black and red blood across the cobbles.
It bucked loose from Soren and clawed toward Jakobav, still reaching for that godsdamned pocket even as Thane’s cut took both tendons at the back of its knees. Savina followed through without hesitation, her strike slicing through its neck, finishing what she started.
The head toppled, the mouth still stretched too wide, a last ripple of that awful echo spilling out. The body staggered back, smoke still leaching from it, before collapsing.
Shadow unwound from the corpse like breath from a dying fire and twisted back toward the waiting breach.
Silence fell, and then sound returned all at once.
“Jakobav,” Maeren said, stepping toward him and stopping only when he swayed.
“I’m good. I’m fine,” he answered, though the torchlight showed him pale and set his soaked shirt to a darker red along the ribs.
Ella moved to help him, and he let her, which was its own small miracle. Or a very bad sign.
She pressed her palm to his side, and heat surged against her skin. She couldn’t tell if it was the wound burning or simply the furnace of him whenever she stood too close.
“Stitches,” Bryn said briskly from Jakobav’s other side, already fishing through his satchel. “Also a fresh rack of ribs, if anyone happens to be carrying a spare.”
“Bryn, not now.” Ella shot him a glare before turning back toward Jakobav.
“Can you walk?” Maeren asked, eyes on the blood.
Jakobav gave one short nod. “Take the head,” he said. “That thing is a Tracker, but nothing like the ones I’ve seen before. I want it studied.” His tone was resolute.
Savina nudged the severed thing with her boot, lip curling. “I would rather lick the sweat from Thane’s disgustingly hairy backside than touch that thing ever again.”
Ella’s gaze had already gone to the breach.
It was still open, thinner now, but open all the same, leaking smoke that curled like beckoning fingers.
She felt the pull distinctly and looked around. It didn’t seem to be calling to anyone else—only to her. If another Tracker slipped through, or if something worse stepped out while Bryn had his hands in Jakobav’s side, they would all pay for her hesitation.
She moved before caution could catch her.
“Ella,” Thane snapped, reading her angle. “No.”
She ignored him and stepped to the cusp of the shimmer’s threshold, close enough that the fine hairs along her forearms lifted. The air tasted like metal shavings and summer rain as she closed her eyes and reached for the threads.
