“This is wrong,” she said. “Even enemies deserve better than to rot in the street.”
She turned her hand palm-up, magic gathering at her fingertips. Silver and gold light threaded together, pooling into the shape of a sigil. The air around her shifted, pulling in toward the spell as if the world itself drew breath.
“Stand back,” she told Lu’ma.
The cast dropped from her hand in a rush, striking the cobbles and blossoming outward. Fire roared into being, running in a perfect circle around the dead before sweeping inward. It consumed cloth, feather, flesh, and bone alike, the stench thickening into a choking wall. Auryn held the web steady, feeding it until the last shapes were nothing but blackened ash.
When the flames died, she whispered the words of a ward—a simple, enduring lattice of mana that would keep scavengers away and hold the ashes undisturbed. Ley lines shimmered briefly over the square before sinking into the stone, wrapping the area in a web. When the magic faded from her palms, it left only the smell of smoke and the faint shimmer of heat clinging to the stones.
Auryn stood in the center of the square, her gaze on the drifting ash. The magefire’s light was gone now, allowing shadows to gather again in the corners. Lu’ma moved to her side, quiet as ever. The only sounds were the hiss of cooling stone and the faint creak of weathered shutters somewhere down the street.
That was when Auryn felt it.
A prickle at the base of her neck. The subtle, instinctive tightening in her chest that came when prey realized it was being watched. She turned slowly toward the mouth of the alley.
Two violet points burned there in the dark—unmoving, unblinking, reflecting the low light like mirrors. At first, that was all. But then the shadow shifted, and something vast stepped forward.
Goosebumps broke across her arms and shoulders. The sound of the steps wasn’t just heels clicking on stone—it was claws. Talons scraping against rock. Each step landed with a thud that vibrated up through the soles of her feet into her knees.
Three steps.
Then four.
The figure had been all the way across the alleyway, but in only four long strides, it was nearly upon them. The light touched his silhouette—feathers, beads, leather, chiseled metal—and then…
The creature’s feet.
Shaped…different.
Inhuman.
Wings shifted. The sound was low and heavy, stirring the air.
A Glider.
Like the ones who had attacked her days ago.
Butbigger. So muchbigger.
And male.
She’d never seen a male Glider before, but there was no mistaking the shape of his jaw, the thickness of his corded neck and shoulders. He was enormous. Broad shouldered. Towering. His head nearly brushed the eaves above. Glyphs climbed the length of his forearms in ink that seemed to breathe with violet mana. Wings, black as colossal mountains silhouetted against a rising sun and edged in silver, unfurled just enough to brush the alley walls. They were vast—a span that could shadow the square in a single beat.
The glaive in his hand gleamed in the emerald-and-amber oscillation of the Polis light, the aethersteel etched with scratches, dents, and scuffs from endless combat. Deadly. Poised. Ready to cleave sky from earthif he willed it. The haft was reinforced with bone, symbols she didn’t recognize carved deep into its flesh.
Leather armor hardened with lacquered feathers clung to his frame; each slow breath measured. Bone trophies hung from his belt—fangs, claws, and strange curved talons—swaying with each step. His black braids swung against his shoulders, threaded with beads and carved bone, each glinting when the light caught them.
The sight of him struck through Auryn like a crack of lightning, stirring the sharp, metallic tang of memory—screams, wingbeats, and the crush of feathers against her as the Gliders fell on her just days before. Blood flying in all directions as good men were eviscerated before her eyes.
He stopped just inside the square, gaze fixed on the pouch at her hip. Talons clicked on stone. Behind him, a massive tail shifted—long, graceful feathers as black as his wings. Through the fading smoke of burning flesh, a scent cut sharp and strange—wild, like rain-soaked stone, with an edge of something bitter that prickled the back of her tongue.
His voice came low, smooth, and cold enough to spread the gooseflesh from her arms to the rest of her body.
“Sokâr, you have taken something which does not belong to the Flaeme.” A pause. For effect. “You will relinquish it.”
But Auryn didn’t move. Didn’t dare. Not against him. Not againstthis. Becausethiswas a beast ready to cleave her in half, and if she showed the slightest tremor, he would.
She steeled her jaw. Dropped her panic, fear, and doubt to the back of her mind as she so often did when faced with danger.
