“There’s something I should tell you before we go in,” he murmurs. “I told you about Azidel’s tome and what it can do. It’s very powerful, and that’s why I—”
A deep growl rumbles in the distance. Thane immediately stops talking, eyes swooping to the jungle as he brings his mask back up.
The growl gets louder. Closer.
I can feel the bass of it rattling in my chest.
Something is stalking us…and it soundsmassive.
Rynthea and Algar are still a few yards away from the temple when a mass of black appears before them. The creature wastes no time swiping Rynthea with a giant claw, sending her body crashing into a tree trunk.
I scream her name when she flops to the ground, motionless, while the creature prowls toward Algar with a snarl, ready to strike.
Chapter 52
This is the creature we’re meant to be looking out for.
Not the serpents.
Not the six-eyed beasts.
This one.
This giant thing made of all black, with sharp claws and blazing red eyes. Wisps of black shadows waft off its body in place of fur.
A wolf.
It must be a wolf…only it’s three times the size of a regular one, with teeth as long and sharp as swords.
“Shadowhound,” Thane breathes in disbelief. He throws up a hand and hauls Algar out of the way before the shadowhound can swipe at him, too. Algar grunts as he tumbles to the ground. As his body goes down, his head hits a rock. He lies motionless.
The shadowhound snarls again, lowering its haunches and glaring at Thane.
“Oh my gods,” I whisper.
“Hide, Zaira.Now.” Thane sinks into a defensive stance, bracing himself for the creature’s attack. I sprint toward Rynthea, who groans as I approach.
“Oh my goodness. Rynthea? Are you okay?” I drop to my knees, inspecting the damage. Her hand is pressed to her waist, where she is unsuccessfully trying to stem the bleeding from three deep gashes.
My blood runs cold.
She could bleed to death if I don’t find a way to stop the flow.
I glance over my shoulder. Thane is now in a standoff with the shadowhound, walking slowly in a semicircle with his swords locked in hand. Algar remains unconscious on the ground. But that’s okay. Hopefully, he’s only playing dead, which is better than actually being dead.
“Okay, let me see…” I set down my rucksack and fish through it until I find an old chemise. It’s too small to wrap around Rynthea’s entire midsection, so I fold it in half and press it to her wounds. She hisses through her teeth. I can’t help thinking that her wounds appear eerily similar to the scars on King Draedor’s face.
“I have a healing elixir in here, too,” I say, digging through the rucksack again. “Don’t judge me, but I stole it from Immalon.”
“You steal?” Rynthea sputters through gritted teeth. I can tell she wants to smile but is in too much pain. Her eyes are starting to glaze over.
“Not usually. Here.” I pop the cork and bring the elixir to her lips. “It’s high strength, so it should work faster.”
Her face scrunches as she gulps it down. “Ugh. That’s fucking disgusting.”
A growl splits the air. From the corner of my eye, I can see the shadowhound pounce forward. I turn to see Thane throw up a hand and force the beast back with a mighty whorl of gold. The shadowhound flies backward but lands on all fours.
It lowers its stance, flaring its nostrils, assessing Thane again before going in for another attack. This time, it has anticipated Thane’s magical blow and lunges to the right. When it circles back around, it slams the top of its head into Thane’s back.
