Why have you come?The screeching hiss rattled her head, dropping her to her knees.
Hazel noticed something then, a prodding in her mind. Something was tap-tap-tapping as though it wanted in. The shrill voice was enough to split her skull. She couldn’t take it. She squinted her eyes and bared down, grinding her teeth to block everything out.
When she did this, the woman withdrew momentarily, hissing in pain.
Hmm. It bites back. You are not like the others.It drew out the last word as though it could remember the taste of a recent meal.Interesting… Sisters, we have not seen one of these in ages.
Sisters?She was still very much alone in this clearing with this… this thing. She was growing more confident it was not actually a human woman.
In response to her thoughts, the woman-thing threw its head back, a wailing banshee as bones snapped and flesh tore. Every fiber of Hazel’s being screamed at her to run, but she was frozen in place, watching the horror unfold.
As the creature writhed and clawed at itself, a second set of arms burst free from its ribcage, spraying blood and bone fragments everywhere. Most of the hair was gone from its head, leaving wisps of sickly white strands poking out of its gray, wrinkly scalp. Its jaw dislocated with a sickening pop, and the teeth inside were now needle-sharp.
Talons formed where the fingers had been, some of them bent at unfortunate angles. This was another creature she’d seen in a fairytale, one that wasn’t supposed to be real…
Striga.
Oh, Fuck.
Yes,it hissed, saliva dripping from its gaping maw.See, sisters? It knows what we are. And we know whatitis, too.The entire clearing reeked of rot, and between the overwhelmingstench and the war in her mind, Hazel knew she was going to pass out.
Another clawed mental finger caressed the exterior of her conscious mind.What the Hel is this?Hazel wondered. As it became more brazen and dug in its talon, Hazel did her best to repeat what she had done last time, baring down with all her might. It worked.
The mental assailant withdrew again, screaming in agony. The creature’s physical form screamed in unison. Hazel was on her hands and knees, panting, certain she would black out at any moment. But something deep within willed her to have strength.
The Striga lunged, opting for a physical assault instead of a mental one. It was a snarling whirlwind of gnashing teeth and slashing talons. And it was upon her in a flash.
Hazel was knocked onto her back with a force that shoved the air from her lungs. The Striga landed atop her with all the ferocity of a pouncing helcat. It unleashed an otherworldly screech Hazel was sure would have her ears bleeding.
No. She would not die today. Not like this.
She mustered every bit of strength she had and let out a scream to rival the Striga’s own. In desperation, she shoved with all her might, pressing into the monster’s thin gray flesh. Something surged within her, and a vibration of energy zipped up her arms and into her hands. Those same hands glowed brighter than the sun itself before emitting a blast unlike anything Hazel had ever experienced.
The Striga catapulted across the clearing. It landed with a bone-crunching thud, but to her disbelief, the monster sat up, slowly popping its bones back into place. It was the most heinous thing she’d ever witnessed. At least until it stood back up and started toward her again, this time with vengeance.
And Hazel couldn’t get up. Blood trailed from her nose, and her mouth tasted of scorched ash. Whatever she’d done tocreate the blast had left her utterly drained, still prostrate on the ground. She could barely will her muscles to move, let alone stand or flee, so fighting was out of the question. Whatever power she’d drawn on, she could no longer feel it.
She was completely and utterlyfucked.
The Striga was nearly on top of her again, when movement in her periphery snagged Hazel’s attention. Drained of all ability to move, she couldn’t turn her head to see what it was. The creature before her was too busy deciding which parts of her it would tear off first to notice the disturbance.
Something burst in between them, a flurry of steel and…feathers? Hazel glimpsed a starch-white wolf’s skull the newcomer wore as a mask, black leather armor and… yes, those were feathers at the shoulders. He moved with inhuman speed, battering the creature and beating it back. But the Striga was faster. She landed a vicious blow to the man’s exposed side as he failed a thrusting lunge at her, and she ripped his armor to ribbons, exposing the mangled flesh underneath.
The follow-up strike disarmed him. But then, the man used magic—actual magic—and Hazel knew she was losing it. No one could use magic within the wards except the King’s own mages.Except that part where I literally just did.
The masked man ripped the glove from his right hand, outstretched as if reaching to grab hold of the Striga. Tendrils of shadowlike black mist flowed from his hand, weaving in and out of one another.
The clouds overhead darkened the sky, and the soft breeze whipped into a whirlwind. His shadows ensnared the Striga, wrapping her body and squeezing it tight. His breathing was labored, but he showed no signs of relenting.
“You don’t belong in these woods, Striga,” he growled.
The Striga hissed, though it was unclear if she was in pain or simply pissed her meal had been interrupted.Fallen-born scum!You belong here no more than I! We do as we are told. Same as you.
“Who sent you?” he grunted through gritted teeth, his struggle to hold her captive growing more apparent.
We’ll never tell!She cackled fiendishly, Helish creature she was. It made Hazel’s hair stand on end.Kill us and get it over with. More will return in our place.
“You will leave immediately, Striga. Crawl back to your master and tell them that if you or any of your kind cross the wards into my territory again, they’ll receive only heads in return.” The Striga hissed angrily, eyeing her forgotten prize sprawled on the ground behind the warrior.
