The horns came next—harsh, hungry, echoing through the trees until every stride felt stolen.
Gabriel wrenched Faerin hard, wheeling the mare broadside across the path.
“Now!”
Evander’s heels dug in.
Stones littering the trail shuddered, lifted—then blazed.
Together they raised their slings, Endowment sparking, the air vibrating hot.
They wound up—
once, twice—
and hurled them as one.
Fiery arcs screamed through the forest, crashing through brush, scattering horses and men alike.
Shouts rang out—startled, furious.
“Ride!” Gabriel snapped, already spurring Faerin forward.
Evander followed, chest heaving, the echo of burning stone rolling in their wake.
Gabriel wheeled his arm, fire arcing from his sling. The stone slammed into a soldier’s chest, dropping him clean out of the saddle.
Evander loosed his own.
It struck a man in the throat.
For a heartbeat, Evander didn’t understand what he was seeing—only that the rider’s hands flew up, clawing at nothing, eyes wide with surprise. Then the man toppled from the saddle and lay still in the dirt.
Evander froze, staring at his hands as if they no longer belonged to him. His pulse stuttered. The world went quiet except for his own breathing—ragged, hollow.What have I done?
“I—” His voice caught.
“Don’t think,” Gabriel barked, riding hard beside him. “Strike again or you’re dead.”
Another wave surged from the treeline, close enough that stones wouldn’t hold them. Hooves pounded, blades flashing through fractured light.
“Too close!” Gabriel shouted.
He hurled one last stone before yanking his horse short.
“Down—now!”
Evander followed, boots slamming hard into the dirt, sword already half-drawn. His breath came fast, fear and fire tangled. A shadow dropped beside him—taller, surer, steel already bared.
“Leolis,” Evander growled.
Steel rang.
Bright.
Brutal.
Leolis pressed him hard, strike after strike, fighting with the confidence of one who had already decided the outcome.
