Arustle in the bushes jolted Cassiel awake. He jerked upright on his branch, almost falling over until he remembered he had been sleeping in a tree. Gripping the bark beneath his fingers, he surveyed the area below, searching for what had disturbed his sleep. The dying fire did little to illuminate their small, dark campsite they had set up in the middle of the forest. Dyna slept on the other side of the campfire.
Alone.
Where was the beast?
Zev’s bedroll was empty, a wool blanket left in a crumpled heap on top.
Cassiel’s skin prickled under his damp clothes. A chilly veil of mist hovered between the dense hedges enclosing them. He had chosen this campsite for its seclusion, but the still trees now entrapped him.
At another whisper of rustling in the bushes, he dropped from the tree branch, landing lightly on his feet. From his belt, he slowly removed the silver knife. He slowed his breathing, straining to catch any approaching sounds. A cold draft brushed against the nape of his neck. He spun around, and his heart lurched at the sight of two reflective, yellow eyes watching him in the dark. The massive black wolf sat silently among the foliage, nearly swallowed by the night.
Cassiel tightened his sweaty palm around the slick hilt of his knife. “I suspected you would come after us next. Well, come on then. I’m ready for you.”
The wolf blinked at him in question.
“I went back to the glade. I saw what you did. You slaughtered them all. Your own kind.” Another shiver sunk down Cassiel’s spine. “Does she know what you have done?”
Those yellow eyes moved to Dyna’s sleeping form, proving Zev remained coherent.
“No. Otherwise, she would fear you as well.”
The wolf slinked toward the camp, giving him a wide berth. Cassiel turned, keeping it in his sights. When reaching the campfire, the wolf took firewood within its jaws from the stack beside it and dropped them over the dying flames. The fire rekindled, providing more light. Then it headed for Dyna.
“Stop. Stay away from her.”
The wolf chuffed what sounded like a human scoff and laid down, curling beside Dyna.
Cassiel glowered. Was it safe to let the beast near her?
As though to answer, Dyna murmured in her sleep and her arm wrapped around the wolf, nestling into the thick fur. Well, she said Zev would never harm her. Werewolves were protective of their kin.
But was the Pack not kin?
Cassiel took a corner of his bedroll and dragged it to the far end of the campsite at the base of a gnarled tree. He sat with his back against the trunk to watch the beast and shook out his blanket over his legs. The journal tumbled out. Firelight shone on the crescent sigil of House Astron.
The Astron’s were an infamous family. Notoriously powerful Lunar Mages that maintained dominion over the Lunar Guild unopposed for the last three-hundred-years. He was to believe that Dyna had descended from them?
Wispy clouds parted overhead, allowing moonlight to shine over Dyna’s small form crowned by fog. It made her pale skin milky compared to the large, black beast beside her.
There was one thing she had said that he believed to be true: her pledge to destroy the Shadow. He had to admire her determination. She found the means to defeat her demon so she would never give up this dangerous quest.
But the Sunstone might not be the only option.
Cassiel turned over his hands, studying them. His father had said they were clean. He had taken no human lives. That would mean with his sword he had the power to eliminate the Shadow.Possibly. As a half-breed, there was no telling if his blood was pure enough to extinguish evil. However, he had regenerative abilities, so there was a probability that it was
But if Dyna knew he could slay the demon, she might give up her mission to Mount Ida, and that could not happen. He needed to know if—
Cassiel looked down at his mother’s ring. He sighed and tucked it within his shirt. He needed to reach the island, at any consequence.
Besides, why get involved? People weren’t made to help each other. It was everyone for themselves. Her secluded village kept her sheltered and naïve. She had no idea how cruel life was. A part of him—a small part not tarnished by pessimism—wanted to slay her demon so she could continue living that way.
Dyna’s soul was the last bit of good left, not that he would admit he liked the colors of its electrical storm. Her soul was uncorrupted. Not yet tainted by greed, lust, or even wrath. She was angry, but as much as the demon took from her, her soul wasn’t dark with hatred. Though she attempted to hide her sadness under smiles, it hovered on the surface.
What happened the night the Shadow came to her village? They spoke of her father opening the Netherworld Gate, and that surely had killed him if not the demon. The Seven Gates contain a power that mere mortals cannot touch and expect to survive. And now Dyna searched for another method to fight the Shadow; one that would most likely claim her life as well.
He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree, tucking the journal under his crossed arms. His eyes grew heavy as the sky lightened. Why was he contemplating this? The stupid human meant nothing to him. He only had one priority.
Reaching Mount Ida.
