Asbel circles high and fast, using his wind to make him faster. Lioran blasts flame, covering all others. I fight like a storm, every blow lethal, every move with purpose.
We begin to feel each other. Know when to move, when to cover, when to strike.
One wraith slips through our defenses and almost grabs Lioran, but I step into its path, sword flashing in a brutal arc. Another dives at Asbel from above, and Lioran flings a firebomb to intercept it mid-air.
Silence at last.
We stand here, panting, dripping in sweat and blood. The fire flickers weakly behind us. The battle has drained us, but adrenaline is still here, sizzling under my skin. No one sits yet. Not until we are sure.
Lioran drops to one knee, swearing breathlessly. “I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes, and it wasdisappointing.”
I grunt. “You’re lucky you still have a life.”
Asbel wipes his blades on his cloak. “We need a plan. If those were some kind of scouts, more might come.”
“We are closest to your portal,” I say, turning to him. “Right?”
He nods. “Yes. Two days at most. One, if we move quickly.”
“Then we head there. Try to circle wide around the worst of the ruins.”
“No arguments here,” Lioran says, standing again with a groan. “But if we get jumped again, I’m going to be mad. Like, really mad. Don’t think I won’t write a strongly worded letter towhoever cursed this place.”
We gather near the fire briefly, weapons in hand, tension buzzing through our veins.
The dark closes in around us like a living thing. We stay awake, watching the night with wary eyes. When the first light of dawn touches the flooded trees in gold and gray, we rise and leave. Silent, grim, and ready to finish this trial.
We walk for a little over a day, with few breaks, bloodied and tired, but we are close now. So close that I can feel the faint tug of magic pulling toward the portal. An hour away, maybe less.
“Fouuund you.”
The sound of that voice makes me freeze mid-step. It was light and too cheery to be anything but wrong. Beside me, Lioran and Asbel stiffen.
A figure steps out from between two trees. He almost looks normal. A youthful male face, symmetrical and unscarred, as though molded to be pleasant. It is too still, though, too smooth. Unnaturally flawless. Then there are the eyes—bottomless pits of black, not just dark but devouring, like staring into the void.
The mawless.
I feel the blood drain from my face.
The mawless smiles with a tilt of his head, like a curious child.
“The pretty princess destroyed my newest mask,” he said, voice laced with mock sorrow. “Snapped it right in half when she yanked you from my hands.”
His eyes flick over to me, a wide grin stretching acrosshis face. “So I think it’s only fair that I take yours. Then I’ll hunt her down and takehersnext.”
In a blur of movement, the mawless surges forward. His fingers slash through the air, catching both Lioran and Asbel before they can react.
Blood splashes the forest floor. Both men stagger, eyes wide in shock, but they don’t fall.
The mawless licks the blood from his fingers with a purr of satisfaction, and the moment his tongue touches the crimson, both Asbel and Lioran drop to their knees, eyes vacant, muscles locked.
“Ah, blood magic,” he sighs contentedly. “Old. Intimate. Deliciously unfair.”
I step forward instinctively, fury pulsing in my chest. “Let them go.”
His smile widens. “But the fun hasn’t even begun yet.”
He spreads his arms and twirls once in the clearing like a dancer. “You and me, human. One last dance before I wear your face.” His voice drops into a growl. “Let’s make it scream.”
