Now, as twilight painted the sky in shades of purple and gold, they crouched in the thick underbrush at the edge of the Snatcher camp. Elora's heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the scene before them.What would Tehvan think if he knew what I was doing? Probably, give me a lecture about taking unnecessary risks.
A small clearing had been carved out among the trees, large enough for a campfire, a few tents, and multiple crates of supplies. Three Snatchers sat around the flames, cooking something that smelled of charred meat and unwashed bodies. A fourth tended to two horses tied near the tree line, checking their harnesses and feeding each an apple.
But it was the fifth man that made Elora's blood run cold.
He stood beside a caged wagon, leering through the iron bars at the cargo within. A young woman—barely sixteen, if that—was curled in the far corner of the cage, her dress torn, her face streakedwith tears as she sobbed silently. The Snatcher said something Elora couldn't hear, and the girl flinched away from the bars.
Beside her, Rell had gone completely still. When Elora glanced at him, she saw his jaw clenched so tight she thought his teeth might crack, his knuckles white where they gripped his dagger.
"Easy," she whispered, touching his arm.
His gray eyes met hers, and there was something wild and dangerous flickering in their depths. She drank it in. His fury. His drive. She needed to want this as much as he did. Justice. Revenge. Power beyond claws and fangs.
"Whenever you’re ready, Sunshine."
Elora uncorked a shadowmeld elixir and drank it in one quick gulp. The bitter liquid burned down her throat, and immediately she felt the change. Her body seemed to dissolve into the gathering darkness, becoming one with the shadows cast by the trees. As long as she stayed out of the firelight, she would be invisible.
Rell stepped into the clearing with all the casual confidence of a man strolling into his own parlor. No stealth. No subtlety. He wanted them to see him coming.
"Evening, gentlemen," he called out, his voice carrying that familiar cocky edge. "Lovely night for a massacre, don't you think?"
The effect was immediate. All five Snatchers froze, their heads snapping toward him with expressions that shifted from confusion to recognition to something approaching terror. One of them actually took a step backward.
"The Reaper," one whispered, the words carrying through the camp like a curse.
Elora blinked in surprise.The Reaper?She'd known Rell hunted Snatchers, but she hadn't realized he'd earned himself a reputation.
"Oh, you've heard of me," Rell said, thumbs tucked under his belt. "How flattering."
Beneath the cockiness, Elora could sense the rage simmering just under his controlled surface, like magma waiting to erupt. He was enjoying this—the fear in their eyes, the way they scrambled for their weapons—but there was something darker driving him. Something that wanted to make them suffer.
The three Snatchers around the fire stood up slowly, hands moving to their weapons, but they stayed close together near the flames. The fourth stayed near the horses, though his movements had become jerky and nervous. The fifth—the one who'd been leering at the caged girl—began scanning the perimeter with sharp, suspicious eyes.
"Must be six of us to one of you," one of the men by the fire said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "Not good odds for you, Reaper."
"Six?" Rell laughed, the sound cold and amused. "I count five. Unless you're including the girl in your numbers, which would be pathetic even for you bastards."
Elora crept around the edge of the camp, sticking to the tree’s shadows, positioning herself behind the fire. The three men were focused entirely on Rell, backs to her. She pulled out a combustion potion and hurled it into the flames.
The potion shattered against the burning logs with a softpop. Then… explosion.
Flames roared upward, engulfing the three Snatchers in super-heated air. They screamed, staggered forward, clothes smoking, but they didn't fall. Their enchanted armor protected them from the worst of it.
Damn.
Rell's hand moved in a blur. His throwing knife sprouted from the nearest Snatcher's eye. The man dropped.
The other two charged with furious roars. Steel rang against steel as Rell met their attack.
"He's got help!" The guard by the cage was moving toward the trees, scanning the shadows. "Someone else threw that potion!"
Elora's heart hammered as he approached her position. When he was close enough to spot her, she hurled a decoy potion in the opposite direction.
Running footsteps echoed from the far side of camp. The Snatcher's head snapped toward the sound and he took off, shouting about flankers.
Elora sprinted for the cage, despite having to step into the glow of the fire. The girl inside was pressed against the corner, eyes wide with terror.
"It's going to be okay," Elora gasped, pulling out a corrosive potion. "I'm here to help."
