I’d already glimpsed the difference in my hair at the sides of my face, but now I see that my features have changed too. My left eye is amber and almond-shaped like Skirra’s eyes were. The sharp canine tooth at the left side of my mouth protrudes when I draw back my lips.
I hunch my shoulders, allowing my hair to fall across that side of my face before I quickly look away.
No wonder the men couldn’t look at me.
“Vandawolf?” Maybelle asks. And then she calls me something I never expected to hear. “Lord? What’s wrong?”
I press my fist to my heart, where it hurts. “Thoren should be the one about to fight for your people.”
She doesn’t refute it, a soft exhale passing her lips.
“Yes,” she says, looking up at me. “But now it must be you.”
Chapter 41
Many hours later, blood drips down my blades as I stand at the northern gate.
In the distance, the sun has descended below the horizon.
The northern field is quiet. The students are no longer forging their medallions. I’m not sure exactly when they scattered from this field, but it didn’t do them any good.
Bowls of coal still burn wine-red while unforged metal lies abandoned on the anvils.
Up on the wall, the guards are dead.
Within the city, bodies lie in streets and alleys and within buildings, all of them Blacksmiths.
Maybelle succeeded in her task—I know this because when I reached Silverspun House, Ayla and Kalith and their children were gone. So were Landon Copperstream and several of the other high-ranking Blacksmiths when I reached the other houses.
The humans are not unscathed, but I helped them where I could and by some miracle, none have died.
They gather now behind me, carrying makeshift weapons and quieting down as I remain standing, unmoving, my focus on the ashen field.
With my new power, what I see before me sends a chill to my bones. When I stepped onto this field the first time, my skin had prickled at howwrongit felt.
Now I can see the swirls of energy snaking through the ash, spots where power gathers and boils, creation magic that even now is still creating.
Malak spoke of monsters rising from this soil and I have no doubt they will. Above me, the sky is already dark again.
“The Blacksmiths are not all you have to fear,” I say as I turn away from the field. “They’ve scorched the earth and their magic hasn’t finished its work. We will have new monsters to fight soon.”
The crowd of humans is deathly quiet as my words seem to sink in.
Braddock pushes through them, carrying a bloodied axe. He approaches me slowly, quietly murmuring. “Your brother’s body is safe with Petra.”
My throat constricts and all I can do is nod.
Braddock is an enemy I will need to keep close. I will never be able to trust him.
As I turn back to the humans… my people… it once again strikes me that it should be Thoren standing here.
Thoren, whom these people trusted because somehow, he’d gained their faith and belief.
He would have told them not to be afraid. He would have told them that we will face the coming battles together, and together, we will win.
But I can’t force words from my tongue that don’t come from my heart.
I will keep the humans safe and honor Thoren that way. But they will never come to think of me as their friend, not when they can’t even look me in the eye.
