Merrik urges his mare beside us, “Lad, we can just camp here for the night. Wait for the river level to drop and return home the way we came.”
Kael pauses for a heartbeat, weighing his options, “Rubi’s been away from the infirmary for almost two days, Mer. The relics are there unguarded. Our hunters are away—there’s no food. We can’t stay away any longer than we’ve already been.”
Merrik grimaces. He knows Kael’s right—that he has a point. But he doesn’t like it. He grunts in displeasure but leaves it alone.
“It’s just up here,” Rhyven calls from the front, Therion trailing him closely, tracking in the way he does.
Kael looks to Merrik and shrugs, “We’re here now—let’s get home.”
Therion stills up ahead, holding up his hand to stop, his tall frame tensing. A predator ready to strike.
Everyone halts instantly, but Rhyven is further ahead. He can’t see Therion and keeps going.
“Something’s wrong,” Therion murmurs, but there’s no mistaking his words. “We’re not alone.”
“Fuck,” Kael grits out, but doesn’t hesitate to slide his swords from the scabbards at his back.
My hand hovers over the blades at my thighs, senses alert and ready.
Therion hisses his name, low and urgent, but Rhyven doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t hear.
Or pretends not to.
Therion gestures to all of us to dismount and doesn’t hesitate to brandish his axe.
We all leap down at his command with no hesitation. No waiting, just action.
Ronyn has an arrow nocked in a heartbeat, and Jax’s magic flares at her fingertips. Daelen and Merrik are crouched low with broad swords at the ready, and Rubi pulls out a sickle blade from her belt, which I’d always assumed was just a harvesting tool.
Seren, brows furrowed, aims her crossbow, and this time, she doesn’t look frightened—she looks prepared.
“There’s no sound,” Therion states. “No birds, no insects, no wind,” he says. “This isn’t right.”
Even the wind is holding its breath. The jungle is too quiet. Not dead—waiting.
Then the first arrow flies.
It whistles through the silence, embedding itself in the bark of a tree inches from Jax.
A second follows—this one grazing Daelen’s upper arm.
Kael’s voice slices through the hush. “AMBUSH!”
The command rips from his chest like thunder, and all hells break loose.
All at once, the trees erupt.
Dozens—no, more—of masked warriors spill from the shadows. Not wild, not disorganized.Trained. Moving in formation.
I leap into action, the sound of steel singing in my ears.
My dagger finds the flesh between the ribs of a soldier moving towards Seren. I withdraw my blade, slick with dark crimson blood, almost black, and that’s when I see it—the Mark of Morrathys.
“It’s Maldrak’s army!” I bellow, but don’t stop moving.
I charge into the fray, ready to rip through soldiers who dare to come after my friends.
Jax’s magic flares around us, blooming outwards to cast the jungle in a vibrant white light.Lightborne magic.
