I plunged back into the fight. The air reeked of ash and blood and smoke. My arms screamed from the weight of my blades as I picked up the one I’d dropped, but I kept swinging—strike, parry, turn, stab. Dorcha drank their screams; Latha silenced them. Each kill came faster, more desperate.
A screech split the night. A larger Obsidian, twice the height of the others, barreled from the trees, claws like hooked scythes. I charged, ducked beneath a swipe that shattered a boulder beside me, and rammed both blades through its gut. It caught me in its massive fist before it died, flinging me backward.
Pain exploded as I hit the ground and rolled. My swords scattered—Latha near a tree, Dorcha in the dirt beside an Obsidian corpse. Three more loomed over in the darkness, lips peeled back in smiles too wide to be mortal.
I hesitated, not daring to unleash my furyfire again. Not after nearly burning the forest down around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rydian—surrounded and fighting. Keres was nowhere to be seen. Amanti and Daegel were busy cutting through their own swath of monsters.
I lunged for my blades, rolled as one of the creatures’ claws struck where I’d been. I came up slashing, twin arcs of death. The first fell, head severed. The second, I impaled and shoved off the blade with a boot. The third grabbed me, claws raking across my ribs.
Pain ignited my furyfire. I let it rise this time, just enough. Flame roared from my skin, catching the creature’s arm. Itscreamed, tried to hold on, and burned for it. The fire consumed its face, its chest, until there was nothing but dust.
I gasped, pulling the fire back before it could spread, chest heaving. The night rang with silence—echoing and eerie. Then I realized: The other Obsidians had stopped.
Rydian stood, blood streaking his bruised cheek, his shadows still writhing. Daegel and Keres held the perimeter, Amanti at their flank. The remaining Obsidians circled, cautious now.
I raised my blades. “Come on, then,” I hissed. “Who’s next?”
They didn’t charge.
Instead, one tilted its head, its onyx eyes reflecting me in miniature. “The Chosen,” it rasped, voice like breaking glass. “The master will be pleased to find you at last.”
A growl rose from Rydian’s chest. “Come near her, and I’ll paint the ground with your rotten blood.”
The Obsidians hissed, then—as one—slid back into the shadows, dissolving into smoke and ash.
The forest fell quiet again. Too quiet.
I stayed in my stance, blades dripping black blood, my breath ragged. “Why are they?—”
“Retreating?” Slade’s voice came from the trees, ragged.
He and Thorne stepped into the clearing a moment later, covered in black blood and gods knew what else. Thorne’s tunic was torn open, a bloodied slash running across his torso. But they were alive.
“They’re reporting back,” Slade finished grimly.
I sheathed Dorcha and Latha slowly, heart still hammering. “To Heliconia.”
Rydian’s expression was grim. “She knows where you are now. And she’ll send everything she has against you.”
The silence that followed was worse than the battle.
Daegel came forward, his hand landing on my shoulder. Iwinced at the wet coating I felt on his palm. “You all right?” he asked me quietly.
I nodded. “You?”
“Fine,” he assured me. “I’m going to check the horses.”
I watched as Keres approached Thorne and led him to her healing supplies. The others remained standing among the fallen Obsidians, all of us trying to process what had happened.
“We spotted them an hour ago,” Slade explained, “heading in the other direction. We thought we were clear, but their scout circled the flank and spotted your tracks. We tried to get back here, but they cut us off.”
“Killed two dozen more of those assholes in the woods just there,” Thorne added, pointing in the direction they’d come from.
Rydian cursed.
“How long you think we have?” Slade asked him. “Before they bring reinforcements.”
“Days. Maybe less.” Rydian’s gaze found mine across the ruined camp. “We need to move. Now.”
