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Damaris draws their twin blades.

Cadex lifts a longsword that looks capable of splitting a spruce.

I unsheathe my sword, and the metal whispers in the dark, glowing with a hunger only I can wield.

We round the final bend, and the enemy crashes into us.

Jord soldiers flood the tunnel like a wave of fur and iron. Their armor is crude compared to ours—layers of leather and thick pelts—but their axes gleam with brutal purpose.

One of them roars, and the tunnel explodes into violence.

The first attacker swings for my head. I step inside the arc of the axe and drive my blade up through his ribs. Hot black blood spills across my hand. I kick him off the sword and pivot as another Oksvakt warrior lunges.

Cadex bellows while smashing someone into the wall.

Damaris moves like flowing water beside me, blades flashing silver in the torchlight. A Jord warrior drops before he even realizes his throat has opened.

Another charges.

I duck and drive my elbow into his jaw, then bury my sword through his eye. Thick ichor drips down my blade, dimming its iridescent glow.

More Oksvakt flood the tunnel, yet I don’t see the helm of my dear brother. His death will be on my hands, and my hands alone. All rules are off, despite our two territories existing in some semblance of peace since the dawn of the New World Peace Treaty.

No, Rollo ruined that the moment he took her.

I slam my hand into the wall of the tunnel and send minuscule earthquakes toward them, nothing to compromise the structure of our tunnels but enough to dislodge stalactites.

The corner of my mouth curves up. Two Oksvakt turn at the sight of my glowing silver eyes. Scrambling just like the rats you are, I say into their minds.

Cadex slams his sword into the ground, and two attackers collapse with shattered legs. “Little help?” he grunts.

Damaris spins, cutting down another. “They came prepared.”

“Like they knew the way,” I say, my wrath teetering toward its boiling point. Tendrils of shadow swirl from my back. If they want to see why I was named World Breaker, then so be it.

Another axe whistles past my shoulder.

Alright, then. I crack my neck.

Steel clashes.

The tunnel fills with the screams of dying men.

One of the Oksvakt captains, Sigurd, pushes through the ranks. His beard is braided with bone charms, his axe the size of a door. He’s massive—bigger than Cadex.

Not bigger than me. I grin when he sees me.

“Underworld Lord,” he growls.

I raise my sword. “Turn back.”

“I don’t report to you.” He spits. “Treaty is dead.”

He charges. The impact rattles my bones as our weapons collide. His strength is monstrous. The axe slams against my blade again and again, each strike sending vibrations through my arms.

Behind him, more Jord pour into the tunnel. How did they find out about this entrance? I roar and slam my fist into the ground. A massive crack forms beneath the enemies’ feet, a small rift beginning to appear between our forces.

“Shields!” Sigurd yells.