One of the Circle members screamed and pointed at the cage Ivy was crouching behind. “There! Oh gods, the betrayer is there! She has the Skullstalkers!”
“Thebetrayer?” Ivy echoed weakly. “Come on, guys.”
But it was too late. The Circle was preparing for battle, daggers flashing and bows emerging even as they steadied themselves. They didn’t believe her, Ivy realized with a sinking heart. They still followed her uncle.
“Vale,” Ivy said shakily. “Can you stand?”
“Ican stand,” said Zax gleefully, his remaining eye flitting hungrily around the people, some of whom were ready to flee. “Time to hunt?”
Vale grunted. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying. He could barely stand, but he made the effort to shove Ivy behind him, his fierce green gaze fixed on her uncle.
“Time to hunt,” Vale agreed.
Then he charged.
Eighteen
Vale had never been more exhausted in his long existence.
His bones ached. His vision blurred. Even his skin throbbed, every beat of his heart bringing a new wave of agony as the wilderness void rotted.
But even a dying Skullstalker was lethal.
A mortal attempted to swing a sword at him. Vale clawed his cheek open and threw him into a tree. The next mortals ran at him with a net threaded with malblossom. This was irritating, but Vale barely felt the burns as he clawed the net to pieces and slammed the mortals to the ground with one swipe of his huge hands.
Ahead of him, Christopher stuffed the vial into his robes pocket and raised his broken staff. “Circle of the Jeweled Fist! Back into formation, back to your glory—holy HELLS!”
That last shriek was well-earned. Zax had streaked past him, his one unburned eye blazing purple with delight as he chased down the latest unlucky mortal foolish enough to run from him. He relished the chase more than the actual mauling, which was regrettable. It meant there were more mortals for him to take down.
Another net flashed over Vale. He swiped at it, but a third net soon followed. Then another. Burning lines of malblossom trailed across his face and arms, tangling his limbs until he was forced to stop.
Christopher dropped his staff into an attack position. Fire glowed at the tip, ready to shoot at Vale.
A malblossom-tipped arrow struck Vale in the leg. He staggered, falling to one knee. The net dragged him to the ground, pinning him down.
Christopher let out a triumphant cry and leveled his staff at Vale’s face. Vale struggled, but he was too weak. The fire spell swelled—only to veer off into Christopher’s panicked followers as the staff jerked upward.
Vale raised his head against the malblossom nets. Christopher’s staff was bound to his arm, tangled in ivy. Vines climbed his robes, twisting around his limbs while he writhed.
“Help me,” he barked at the Circle. “Somebody get over here andhelpme!”
A sharp, clear voice rang out through the clearing. “Nobody goes near him.”
Despite the pain burning in his leg and the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, Vale smiled.
Ivy stood with her teeth bared and her arm outstretched, all of her trembling. Sweat streamed down her face, and blood trickled from her nose. But whatever toll the void magic was taking on her, she did not let it distract her from her goal.
Ivy’s fingers closed. The plants around Christopher tightened, and he cried out in pain.
“Somebody cut me free,” Christopher yelled. “And get back in formation so I can let us into the damned void!”
“Don’t,” Ivy snapped. “He’s fooling you, can’t you see? If you let him cast that spell, it will kill you all!”
The forest went silent. Even Zax stopped mauling his latest victim so he could watch the proceedings, his chin dripping with gore.
“He’s never cared about helping us,” Ivy cried, her arm shaking with the effort of keeping Christopher restrained. “I’m his last living family, and he threw me away as soon as it benefited him!”
A murmur went up through the surviving members of the Circle. Some of them reached for the symbol they had painted on their chests, as if remembering the feeling of having their life start to drain from them.
