“Hold,” I called, louder now. “No one attacks unless they have to.”
Keegan’s gaze flicked to me, then to the incoming creatures. “Maeve—”
“I know,” I said through clenched teeth. “But if we start swinging, she wins.”
The first shadow beast screeched as it closed the distance, its wings beating air that smelled faintly of damp stone and extinguished flame. It dove, not at them directly, but low enough that it would look like we’d provoked it if we reacted.
I lifted my hands, drawing magic into my palms, not as a weapon but as a shield. The Maple Ward’s warmth flickered through me, connection, growth, and beginnings, and moved into something steadier.
The Academy’s lessons hummed at the edges of my mind.
Protect. Don’t provoke.
Prove intent with action.
The creature’s shadowy form twisted, claws reaching.
Behind it, the orcs roared again.
And in that moment, I understood exactly what the Priestess was doing.
She wasn’t trying to kill us.
Not yet.
She was trying to poison the first meeting.
Trying to turn thousands of frightened, displaced orcs into enemies before I could speak a single word.
And as the beast lunged and the ground shook beneath the orcs’ halted line, I knew we were out of time for careful choices.
We were at the edge of the moment where perception became truth.
Chapter Forty-Two
The first shadow beasts hit their shields like they wanted to break the world in half.
The impact shuddered through my arms and into my chest, rattling my teeth, and the air snapped with cold as the creature’s wings beat against the barrier. Its claws scraped along the magic like nails on glass, throwing sparks of pale light that fell and fizzled before they touched the ground.
Behind it, the valley erupted.
Orcs shouted in their rough, booming language, voices colliding and overlapping as they scrambled into a defensive line.
Mondo boar squealed and stamped, dragging crates sideways and nearly knocking into one another. Weapons came up, axes the size of small trees, blades dull with use but heavy with purpose, and the entire mass moved like a storm deciding where to land.
“Don’t strike first!” I called, but my voice barely carried over the noise.
Keegan was already with me. His hands were half raised as if he was physically holding himself back from shifting. I could feel the restraint in him, the way he was choosing control even though every instinct screamed for the opposite.
Caleb’s shifters moved along our flanks, not charging or provoking, but forming a living wall between us and the orcs, ready to absorb the first misunderstanding. The vampires flowed into motion behind them, too fast to track fully, their coats and hair stirring in the wind that wasn’t wind, their eyes catching what little light remained.
Nova lifted her staff and traced a symbol in the air. A ring of shimmering light spun outward around us, thin and precise, like a boundary drawn with certainty. The shadow beast screeched again and recoiled, not wounded but frustrated, as if it hadn’t expected resistance that didn’t smell like aggression.
Then another creature dropped from the sky.
And another.
They came in a jagged wave, some diving toward the orcs to force their hands, others arcing wide to circle behind us. Every move felt calculated to create the same story from every angle: witches and vampires and shifters showing up at the exact moment danger fell from the sky.
