By The Sword - Homepage

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I squinted into the night.

With my senses sharpened, my ears perked, and my eyes flicking back and forth over the shadowed tree line, I felt ready. Ready for whatever was lurking out there in the dark splotches of blackness that hid from even the moonlight’s view. Weeks of hunting terrors had made me cautious—they’d sharpened my eye to look for dangers in the dark.

But as I watched, my eyes narrowing at only the available moonlight and the dim, crackling fire of our camp behind me, I wasn’t able to focus. Because instead of silence, our camp was anything but. Even with the comfortable feeling of warmth cascading over my back, it didn’t make up for the noise. The chatting and occasionally boisterous laughter. After a day of travel, it seemed, none of the knights wanted to shut up.

Gritting my teeth, I twisted, already glaring at the camp we’d finally made after the night had turned cold enough. Even after leaving the briefing less than an hour before midday, we’d made surprisingly good time. Walking the entire way without stop had helped with that. But marching in an organized fashion with rotating scouts had helped even more. By nightfall, we’d already made it to the forest that was the last obstacle before Norn.

And our envoy’s leader had told us to stop before we’d entered.

In reality, with the apparent energy levels of all members of our party, we could’ve gone further. We could’ve pierced into the dark woods for long enough to find a clearing closer to our destination.

But with the subtle rustling sounds still echoing at the edge of my hearing, I wasn’t sure that would’ve been the best plan, either.

My hand fell, wrapping around the hilt of my sword as I turned back to the woods. In my peripheral vision, I could still see the now half-armored knights sitting around and talking as if nothing was wrong. But no matter how cheerful their tones, I couldn’t shake off the sound of my instincts yelling at me. The mounting dread that I’d started feeling as soon as Sarin had faded into the distance.

Even though I’d traveled away from Sarin before, I couldn’t help but feel that this was different. After parting ways with the lodge in a rather unceremonious way, I didn’t feel content. I felt restless. And that was only furthered by the swirling white flame in my head that seemingly couldn’t make up its mind about how it felt.

During the briefing, when Marc had introduced all of the members of the procession, given us directions, and then sent us on our way, it had been calm. It had flickered quietly in the background. But as we’d started on our way, it had become more riled. More unnerved by the future we were walking into.

Though, in that state, it had been easier to quell at least. A single reaffirmation of the beast and the possibility of learning more about it—of defeating it… that had been enough.

Yet, even though I knew the purpose of our mission, it was hard. The fear continued to slip through my resolve. The fanciful images of Rath and the idea of my rematch with the beast coming far too early… they hadn’t been easy to push away.

Even now, that dread wasn’t entirely gone.

“Agil,” a voice said. I blinked, rising from my stupor. Turning back on my heel, I watched the cheerful, dark-skinned knight approach me from his place by the fire. Fyn smiled, raising an eyebrow as he followed where my gaze had been. “What’s up?”

My eyebrows dropped. I turned back toward the trees and scanned them once more, only noting small flashes of movements that I could’ve easily attributed to wind. “I’m watching.”

In my periphery, Fyn bobbed his head. “Yeah, I think I can see that.” His smile widened. “Why are you so on edge? We set up camp outside of the trees for a reason, you know.”

A smile of my own tugged at my lips. “I know that—I’m just listening. We may have been lucky in daylight, but the forest holds anything but safety during the night.” My eyes widened a sliver at the words coming out of my mouth. They reminded me of Myris, almost. And turning back to the knight, I became painfully aware of just how much of a ranger I sounded like.

Fyn didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t see anything.” My lips pursed. He continued, eyeing me. “Or hear anything either. Look, we have enough to worry about as it is. Why don’t you just come and—”

“He’s right,” came another voice, just as serious as mine. I turned to see Kye squinting at the woods as well, placing down her bedroll on smooth dirt as she did. Flicking my eyes down, I noticed where she’d decided to set up. A little ways farther away from the fire, I noted. Only a few paces away from my bedroll, I realized.

“Right about what?” Fyn asked, a line of tension entering at the bottom of his tone. He fought his smile not to waver. “Are you rangers always like this?”

Whipping back around, I offered a small smile to the cheerful knight. Fyn seemed to relax a little at that, regaining the bright glint in his eye. Then he glanced back at the group of knights he’d been talking to. My features softened as the sight brought back memories of traveling with fellow knights myself. The comradery and safety that came with knowing the others had your back.

My expression darkened when I saw Lionel and his group commiserating with the knights far more effectively than I’d managed to. Shaking my head, I took a deep breath. “No. We’re just—we have a lot to think about as well, you know.” Fyn bobbed his head lightly. “And when you live next to a forest that hides enough terrifying creatures to replace the population of your town, you become a little skeptical.”

Fyn chuckled, nodding. “I can understand that. If those trees were made of stone, I might just be worried that robed cultists would hop out and ruin our perfectly good evening.”

A sharp breath fled my nose. I shook my head lightly while a grin grew on my face.

Blue cloth flooded the corner of my vision. I turned, my lungs tingling as lighter, magically-tinged air circled through them. Raising an eyebrow at Kye, I watched as she thumbed through the arrows in her quiver while watching the trees. She was casting, then.

“I hear it too,” she said, not even turning over to me. Her ears twitched ever so slightly as more rustling sounded off. I darted my eyes back to the shadows, straining them to see whatever form was locked in their depths. “The rustling, obviously. But more than that, I hear the sweeping movements and the clambering feet.”

I nodded, straining my near-perfect ears to hear the more solid sounds of… something digging into bark. Some creature’s paws, or talons, or fingers. Whatever it was, it was climbing stealthily enough that we couldn’t see it.

I let out a soft curse under my breath. The dread reared its head again. I shook it away. “Right. It’s definitely something. We just can’t see what it is yet.”

Behind me, Fyn audibly swallowed. Pursing my lips, I glanced toward him and watched as he nodded silently to himself. Almost as though he was offering reassurances to nobody except himself.

“Nor do we know if it’s hostile,” I continued, watching the knight carefully. He calmed a hair at that but was still shifting from foot to foot.

Kye scoffed, her gaze unchanging. “I think we know well enough. Creatures that love to be pacifists normally don’t hang around loud noises or firelight during the dead of night.”

I swallowed, my throat drying. She was right, after all, and I knew it. It was one of the reasons most rangers hated hunting at night. Outside of the darkness and the cold that anyone with experience could get past rather easily, the graveyard shift was just purely more dangerous.

“Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Fyn said. His voice drifted to my ears like a calm breeze, only barely accented with worry. And hearing it—along with the flurry of voices that I knew came from capable fighters behind me—I relaxed. He was right as well.

Kye folded her arms. “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be careful, though.”

“It does mean we don’t have to devote as much energy to it, however,” I said. Kye finally turned, her eyes searching my face. I only smiled at her. Her fierce, hardened brown eyes softened as she bobbed her head.

She’d been a ranger for years, and we didn’t hunt in groups larger than four or five. She hadn’t ever traveled with a group as large or as well equipped as the one we were with now. But with all the extra help, we could take some of the stress off.

Or, that was the logic I used with myself.

In truth, I hadn’t traveled with a procession in years, either. Not for months before my first clash with the beast, even. I remembered them clearly—the organization and protection they allowed. But after so long in my new body… they were starting to blur as well. Starting to fall away.

And that didn’t even account for the dangers of Ruia I hadn’t had to face in my past life.

“Excuse me?” a firm voice asked, cutting off the shiver in the middle of its trip down my spine. Blinking, I spun, listening as the camp around me fell quiet. The knight who was the source of the voice—our procession’s leader—stepped forward. “What is going on here?”

My eyebrows dropped as I looked over the haughty man. Bane, I remembered, as if his parents had named him for everything he would pretend to represent as an adult. I sneered at him, fighting my face to be as neutral as possible. Ever since Marc had given him the position in the briefing, nobody had truly respected him as such. It was a strange pick, in my eyes, because even to knights who had arrived in Sarin with the man, he wasn’t anything special.

And thus far, all he’d done to lead was offer his best impression of Marc.

“We’re being cautious,” Kye said alongside me. Her tone was stale and uninterested, lined with just enough edge to force eyes upon her. Even Lionel froze, eyeing the ranger as if to tell her not to push their luck.

As my eyes widened, I stepped in. I placed a hand on Kye’s stiff shoulder. It slumped a hair and she leaned back on her heel. Good, I thought. That was good enough.

“Cautious?” Bane asked, pursing his lips and studying us in the most pompous way possible.

I pushed away another sneer, forcing a smile instead. Even though I questioned his fitness to lead a procession that was supposed to assist one of the strongest cities for tens of thousands of paces, he was still our leader. Marc had still put him in charge, and that gave us the obligation to trust him.

“There may be a threat in the woods,” I said, bowing my head slightly. The grin that flashed on Bane’s face at the top of my vision made me regret the action. “It could be nothing”—Kye elbowed me at that—“but we don’t want to be uncautious.”

I shot a glare to the side. Kye’s lips curled into a smirk.

In front of me, Bane straightened up. His face flushed slightly paler in the orange light of the fire. “A threat? What does that mean for us? What kind of threat have you observed?” I didn’t miss the way Lionel became serious all at once. Neither did I miss the curious, almost annoyed glances some of the knights were shooting his way.

“We aren’t sure,” I said, my gaze flicking to Kye. All she did was shrug. I continued, “All we’ve heard is movement. It sounds like something large, but we haven’t seen it yet.”

Bane narrowed his eyes, nodding slowly. I wasn’t convinced by the gesture. And as his eyes darted back to the fire and the knights he’d been talking with only a minute ago, I almost growled at his fake contemplation. He wasn’t taking it seriously, then.

I tightened my grip, feeling the weight of my sheathed sword. The purpose of our trip rose up in my head again. We were here to help, I reminded myself. To support a real city that had lost real lives to a real threat that had the possibility of doing even more. I curled my lip in distaste, nearly spitting at how casually Bane handled it all.

Then, finally, he responded.

“It shouldn’t be cause for concern, then,” he said. I blinked, furrowing my brow before he continued. “Even if whatever creature is out there is a threat, shifts of watch will start once we get down to rest. They will take care of anything that comes.”

“Right,” I said, my voice still perfectly careful. As I tried to keep up my smile, I eyed Bane. I eyed his casual clothes and his full armor on the ground not far away. He wasn’t planning on being on watch.

My grip tightened even more. Blurry, distant memories rose up. I had to strain my mind to simply see them clearly, but either way, the feelings were real. The responsibility I’d felt as a knight. As the leader of a party during travel, I’d always offered to take the first watch.

The world knew I’d been strong enough to do so.

“We have had a long day,” Bane continued. My face dropped at that. We hadn’t even walked for more than half the day. “And we have even longer ones ahead of us.” He smiled at me, flicking deceitfully concerned eyes between me and Kye. “If you will, have some fun—or some rest—instead of creating the opposite among the rest of camp.”

I straightened, forcing myself to nod. Beside me, Kye turned, stepping away. It was probably a wise move, after all. If she’d let herself watch Bane’s fake, amicable expression any longer, she would’ve done something we both regretted.

That was enough for Bane. He squared his shoulders and lifted himself up high before sitting back down on the rock he’d reserved for himself. Slowly but surely, the previous commotion started back up again. And soon enough, it was just as loud as it had been before.

“Asshole,” Kye muttered behind me. I could only agree with that, still thinking back to all of the other incompetent or frustrating knights I’d dealt with back in Credon. The memories were few and far between, and I couldn’t recall even a single one of their names now, but I remembered the exasperation.

Turning around, I sighed. Kye slumped her shoulders and continued to stare at the gloomy treeline. She made her way over to where she’d placed her bedroll next to mine and sat, rolling her neck.

I took a step to join her.

“Hey,” someone said, stopping me. Blinking at the familiar and much less annoying voice, I turned. Fyn smiled at me—completely genuine as opposed to our provisional leader. “If whatever’s out there really is something, let me know, okay?” I raised an eyebrow but nodded. “If it comes at us, I want to be ready to hit it until it can’t move anymore.”

A chuckle bubbled out of my throat. “Yeah. Sure, Fyn.”

The cheerful knight shot me a grateful glance before turning back. Within seconds, he’d returned to the loudest section of our little camp and jumped right in.

Letting another sigh go, I walked off. Across the last few paces away from the fire to where I’d set up my sleeping arrangement. Kye turned to see me when I did, allowing herself a half-wave.

The gradual exhaustion in my bones made collapsing into a sit rather easy.

“Fucking asshole,” Kye said. Her eyes flared, and the air around me lightened even more as she continued casting. Dropping my eyebrows a little, I eyed her carefully.

“Yeah,” I said, not even sparing a second of silence. “Do you need to be casting so furiously?”

Kye raised both eyebrows. “I’m not losing track of it. No matter what it is.” Her ears twitched. “I can hear it, and I can see little bits of movement, but… I don’t know.” Her shoulders relaxed, falling with the fatigue I was sure all of us felt. “There really is something out there though, you know.”

I half-heartedly rolled my eyes. “Oh, I know. I heard it, too. Those aren’t the sounds produced by the wind, I’ll tell you. After sleeping in the freezing woods for two nights, I’m pretty sure I know every variation of sound the air can howl at this point.” Kye’s rigid, disappointed expression perked up a little. “We just don’t know—”

Kye already had her hand up. “Yeah, yeah. We just don’t know if it’s dangerous.” I smirked. “I get that. But…” She rolled her shoulders. “I for one hope to the world that it isn’t—I’m already too tired as it is.”

I nodded. “It has been a long trip so far. The slog of dealing with preparations and the briefing wasn’t forgiving, either.”

“An annoying trip,” Kye added. “With all these formalities and the way the knights talk.” I straightened up, trying to melt away the glare that rose to my eyes. Kye shook her shoulders. “It reminds me too much of the last time I had to travel with knights.” She laughed. “Except this time we don’t have a competent leader to make things even a little bit bearable.”

Yet, the procession did still have its advantages. I shot a hand up, rubbing my neck. “At least we’re making good time. And with coordinated, rotating scouts, we’re more than safe while we’re moving.”

“Sure,” Kye said. I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. “At least when it's our turn up to scout we don’t have to stick around and listen to the knights exchange anecdotes for the hundredth time.”

I stiffened up. “Not all of them are bad, you know. I get that Bane is… not fit for the position, but it’s not as if these knights are too arrogant.” I curled and relaxed my fingers to keep myself from twitching. “We could’ve been stuck with worse—we have been stuck with worse before.”

Kye chuckled, tilting her head back. Her gaze still stayed on the trees, but I could tell her attention on it was slipping. “I guess. Some of them are good entertainment, at least. And we don’t have to wade through Jason’s stories of glory just to plan out what we’re going to do next.”

I nodded, a sharp breath escaping my nose. “That is true. These knights know how to plan. They know how to organize, for sure.”

“I’m still unsure about it,” Kye said. The words fell from her lips smoothly, but I heard the weight in them. As I turned back to her, she clenched her jaw. “I understand what the goal is—the basic plan. Arrive in Norn. Organize with their forces there. Attack the target of the cult to give them breathing room. It’s simple stuff, really.” I bobbed my head, waiting for what she was still hesitating to say. “...But maybe it’s too simple. Maybe that’s not enough to mitigate their damages and stop the possibility of Rath’s rise for enough time.”

I cringed. “Maybe it’s not. But they’ve had more up-front experience with—”

Kye threw up a hand. “And who’s to say the cult even has a say with Rath. Sure, the rumors of her rising only coincide with increases in their power—but who’s to say that’s related?” I paled a fraction at her question. Kye scoffed at herself. “Well, who’s to say Rath is real in the first place.”

I licked my suddenly dry lips and stared into the dirt. “The stories, for one.” Kye stiffed. She didn’t argue that. “And at the moment, we don’t even know if there’s more than the singular assault. After dealing a major blow to the cult, maybe there’s more.” Silently, I hoped there was. I hoped for some opportunity—some communion with Rath, even if it was a stupid enough endeavor.

Anath’s words played back in my head, washing over the white flame like a cold breeze at the mention of the beast. I took a deep breath as it flared to life again. Its energy twitched in my veins.

“Maybe,” Kye said, tilting her head to the side and pulling knees closer to her chest. Then she laughed once. “But I’d rather think about that than deal with another discussion regarding changes in a knightly code.”

I nodded sheepishly. The movement was unconvincing. Hollow. Because I still disagreed with what Kye was saying. It still grated on the version of myself I held close. The version of myself that I couldn’t let slip away into the blurry past. But right now, I was tired. I didn’t feel like fighting her on it. For more reason than one.

My eyelids drooped under their own weight. A yawn crept up. “Well, maybe—”

I slid, tilting sideways as Kye elbowed me. Blinking myself alert, I glared at her. But her eyes stopped me. The way they searched the trees—but not the trees in front of us. The ones farther down, closer to the rest of our camp.

Then I saw it too.

Movement.

“Shit,” I mumbled, rising to a crouch and narrowing my eyes on the finally visible form perched in the trees. Its dark, talon-like feet grabbed onto bark as it shifted, pulling large parts of itself that I didn’t want to believe were wings with it.

“Shit indeed,” Kye said, the air around me lightening. She shot to a stand and stepped forward, watching the feathered beast intently. “A rakora, I think.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry. Then shook my head and looked back. Watching the hulking, muscled bird-like body, I knew it could’vebeen a rakora. It could’ve been one of the mutated avian beasts that existed in paired couples within forests. Ones that, unlike a lot of other nightlife, were attracted to noise and light as they were normally strong enough to gain quite the meal from large gatherings.

It could’ve been one of them. I hoped it wasn’t.

The glint of a dim, bronzed beak ruined all my hopeful doubts.

Gritting my teeth, I unsheathed my sword. I took a deep breath and watched the perched creature in its vulture-esque stance. My fingers curled around the hilt of my blade and the white flame reacted, flaring to life at the onset of my thundering pulse. Just like I’d accustomed it to. Just like how I’d trained it.

Stalking forward, more of its power seeped into my veins. I smiled.

“Nobody else sees it,” Kye said from alongside me. Looking over, she already had her bow out and an arrow notched.

“I’m not too keen on the clamor of metal making it realize that its lost surprise, though,” I said. My face contorted into a scowl. “Letting it get away is only more stress for us the entire night.”

“Rakora are nothing if not persistent,” Kye muttered.

I nodded, continuing forward as the rakora reared its head and stared down at the group of three knights immediately below it. It stared them down with what I could only assume to be murderous intent. Draped in darkness, I couldn’t quite make it out.

“Are you going to be the one to knock it down?” I asked, a sardonic grin at my lips.

Kye snickered as she hurried alongside me and pulled back the arrow in her bow. “I don’t have the time to spend laughing if you’re the one to try, so…”

I laughed, biting down on the disrespect and forcing more motion into my feet. Step after quiet step, I approached the tree line and gathered one or two stray glances from the knights in camp. Even Lionel looked up, flicking his eyes between me and Kye. My companion drifted out of my peripheral vision to line up her shot.

And as soon as the twang of her bow sounded, I was off.

Metal boots thundered against the ground as I ran. The cold air whipped at my cloak and sprayed my hair backward, but I didn’t pay attention to it. I didn’t pay the aches in my legs any mind; nor did I pay any mind when the stray glances from our camp became full attention. No. I didn’t stop to watch Bane’s face pale at the sight of the rakora.

I only focused on my target.

The creature screeched. Wings flapped through thick branches as the rakora tried to stay aloft. It tried its best not to fall to the ground where it would only meet the steel of my blade. And for a moment, it appeared successful.

Then the next arrow hit. Then the next.

Two more wounds joined the one already on its leg, decorating the rakora’s neck and left wing with blood as it blundered through the air. The wind seemingly dropped out from under the feathered beast. It writhed some more while its body flapped toward the dirt.

As soon as it hit, I was already on it.

Raising my sword and letting the tinge of my own magic tickle my lungs, I struck down. Right into the rakora’s already-wounded wing. The thing screeched right in my face, sending a ringing in my ear while it swiped with the large feathery limb.

But by the time the multiple-pace long wing swept through the air, I was already gone. Twisting away on determined feet, I moved toward its underbelly. I worked through heavy breaths and gripped my bloody blade, thrusting it up into the creature’s chest.

Steel dug into flesh that was far too thick for something that could’ve been considered a bird. But I’d hit it, and while its cries of pain were still dissipating through the air, I was dashing away.

Or, I’d thought I would’ve been dashing away. But instead, my blade caught on brittle, hollow bone of the rakora’s ribcage and sent me staggering backward. Pulling the blade with everything I had, I tore it through the bone and back out into open air. The feathered beast writhed in pain, its beady eyes staring at me with the same intent I’d envisioned before.

Completely and utterly murderous.

I scrambled backward, trusting in the white flame’s energy to carry me with enough speed. Yet, with the headache of soul drain already showing its face among my exhaustion, I didn’t nearly move fast enough. The shrieking rakora was on me in a second, sweeping its other wing in my direction and trying to knock me to the floor.

Luckily, I was at least fast enough for something.

I shot my blade up to block the attack. The wing still struck full force, but at least when I stumbled away, my metal boots only dug up dirt instead of collapsing into it. I staggered to a stand, teetering through spinning winds. Then, collecting myself as quickly as I could, I shook my head and stared back at the feathered beast.

Even with the blood pouring out of it in spades, it was far from done.

I cursed under my breath and scrambled backward some more. Away from the damage I knew it could do if I wasn’t careful. And our procession didn’t have a healer, I reminded myself. Taking too much damage was not an option.

The twang of a bow.

I stiffened. Then ducked. An arrow pierced right above my head and hit the rakora in the throat. Glancing back at Kye, she already had another arrow ready. And I dodged to the side before it could accidentally strike me instead.

The rakora reeled, flapping through the air backward and missing Kye’s arrow by barely a single pace. It turned its head and blinked at the huntress, its beak snapping. My eyes shot wide. Steel entered my blood when I realized its attention had shifted.

But no. I couldn’t let that happen.

I’d hunted with Kye enough. We’d even fought a rakora before—albeit not one as bulky as this. I knew the drill well. With her skill and accuracy with the bow, all I had to do was inflict as much damage as I could up close. I had to keep our target’s attention away from her.

In short, I just had to be too annoying to ignore.

And as I lurched into a run again, that concept gave me an idea.

“Fyn!” I yelled, hoping my voice would carry over the furious pounding of blood. The shifting steps from the camp behind me told me he’d heard. “You wanted to know—well here it is!”

I didn’t divert my attention long enough to know whether he’d reacted. I hoped he would, but I didn’t count on it.

Leaping, I raised my blade again at the creature trying to gain air. I directed it sideways and cut at the rakora’s taloned feet in a flash of movement. Seconds of pure finesse and motion passed before my maneuver was done. And when I skidded away, more were already flooding my head.

My lungs burned with frigid air when I looked up at the rakora. Though, I didn’t even have a second to complain because it was flying at me. At least the plan to divert its attention had worked, I told myself dryly.

Sharp, bronzed talons descended on me from above. I scrambled, my eyes shooting wide as I ducked. Tried to push through the jolts of mortal fear and sudden doubts about ever attacking the thing in the first place. And, after a moment, it half-worked.

Then one of its claws dug into my shoulder.

I screamed. Burning, agonizing pain ripped past torn cloth and through my skin. It left warm trickling plumes of blood in its wake. My body hurtled, stumbling wildly off balance as I tried to orient myself. It was easier said than done. And after a second, I realized it just wasn’t happening.

Still wincing, my body slid to the ground. Hard, packed dirt rose up under my spine and sent tremors throughout my body. My muscles ached. They screamed and burned in all of the same ways that I wanted to. But I didn’t even get time to think about that. The rakora was on me again, flapping its bleeding wings while bronzed talons swiped down.

New attacks rolled through my head. They streamed past with a precision I hadn’t felt since my past life. My instincts barked, carefully neutral despite the twitching fire in my blood and burning pain on my shoulder. As talons fell toward me, I rolled out of the way. I scrambled back and used the steel of my blade to deflect just enough to offer some respite.

Yet, with each passing moment, that respite was receding. It was fading away as my body slowed just a little more than I’d hoped for, responding to my calls at an increasing delay. Inwardly, I cursed the beast again for damning me with a body I couldn’t trust.

The rakora had far greater stamina than I did. It stopped flapping its wings and fell, sharp talons draping over my shoulders to hold me in place. Almost all of the creature’s weight pinned me to the floor.

Once again, its eyes flashed murderous.

I could all but feel the color draining from my face. With sharp, beady eyes, the rakora stared down at me. It studied me as if trying to find a weakness in my guard. Which, at this point wasn’t that difficult to discern while my body was almost entirely immobile. The creature figured that out in short time and darted its beak down directly at my face.

Time slowed around me. The white flame flickered with newfound intensity, warming my soul and pleading with me to let it in. I writhed, pushing with everything I had to avoid losing the front half of my face. And as the white flame flared again, adding to the draining headache ever-more, my efforts seemed to work. The rakora slowed, releasing its grip ever so slightly to allow my escape.

I scuttled backward, regripping my sword and holding it out to the front. Briefly, I cursed the fact that almost everything I fought these days was a beast of some kind. The parries and counter-attacks flitting through my mind were all but useless against an enemy without a weapon.

But I didn’t give the thoughts too much attention. Instead, I took the moment of relief to force myself into a stand and inspect the rakora. Because it hadn’t simply let me go on its own accord. The skewed, ferocious look in its eyes told me that. It looked slow for some other reason, as though its muscles were being forced to a screeching halt.

I scanned the camp full of knights. Most of which were mages, I reminded myself. And after a moment, I found it. I saw the knight who looked like he was holding up the entire world as he glared down the avian beast.

Fyn. I gawked, staring in pure shock and gratitude for a moment at the cheerful knight. He’d been so relaxed only minutes before—he wasn’t even wearing his armor. And yet…

I didn’t even want to think about how much effort it was taking to manipulate the energy of another living being. So I didn’t. Instead I took the opportunity he’d given me, listened to the white flame, and surged forward.

As my metal boots thundered over the grass, the air around lightened. It felt malleable. Useable. Full of energy. I attuned to the white flame inside me, letting it work for me as I accepted it into my soul. At once, I felt the energy available to my will.

And I moved it.

My blade struck up through cold air, igniting with tendrils of flame. The rakora only had a moment to stare in horror before it got singed. Its slow body—kept that way by Fyn’s magic—couldn’t react fast enough. My blade tore through the flesh of its chest and nearly burned it from the inside out.

A few more movements and a flash of light later, the beast staggered to the ground. I coughed, my headache showing itself and fatigue rippling through my bones like I’d just thrown far too many stones into a lake. Wheezing cold air, I couldn’t help the satisfied grin that grew on my face.

But watching it twitch, I couldn’t help the doubts either. They made me wonder if the thing was still alive.

The flick of a bowstring sounded behind me. I ducked, immediately recognizing it. And Kye’s arrow piercing through the creature’s eye solved all of my worries at once.

It was dead. The encounter was over. And I could go back to my bedroll. Despite the agony my shoulder was trying to convey to me, I latched onto those thoughts. Back to rest, I told myself.

As I hobbled back to camp, the stunned shock of all the knights faded—even if the impressed way they looked over me didn’t. They erupted into action and surged toward the fallen creature that had so closely threatened our safety. They yelled orders at each other, grumbling and cursing here and there. I didn’t listen to them, of course, instead only staring in satisfaction at Bane’s pale, frozen expression.

Though, even staring at him was only enjoyable to a point. I was tired. I sighed, unable to keep a dry smile off my face as I trudged past the last couple stunned and impressed looks.

Less than a minute later, I’d stumbled back to my bedroll and collapsed into a sitting position. Kye joined me soon enough, the smirk on her face as cocky as ever despite the weariness creeping in at the edge of her expression.

I rolled my shoulder, wincing as more blood trickled out. Less than I’d thought, actually, given the severity of the injury. But I wasn’t complaining. Neither was I complaining about the apparently lightning-quick healing my body had already started on the scrapes or bruises I’d sustained.

“You brought sano leaves?” I asked, my smile crooked as I looked at Kye.

The huntress dropped her smirk and nodded. From her quiver, she produced some bandage along with one of the flat, vibrantly green magical leaves that I cherished so much. I took them instantly.

“We worked well… together,” I said as I fastened the bandage and pressed the leaf against my shoulder. The numbness washed in on a wave of relief.

In the corner of my eye, Kye nodded. “We did,” she said, smiling. “I mean, I’d hope we would after hunting for so long. Making up for your incompetence isn’t part of my job anymore, you know.”

I chuckled. “That one was worse than I thought it would be.”

Kye bobbed her head without showing much else. “Yeah. Glad that other knight did what he did, though.” She flicked her eyes toward me. “He saved your ass there.”

I stiffened at her low, concern-lined tone. Truthfully, she was right. And darting my eyes over to see Fyn basically collapsing to the ground only made me more thankful. I’d never seen him cast before, or even known what magic he specialized in. But… manipulating energy of other living things took its toll. More than most magic did.

I was glad he’d thought I was worth it.

“Yeah, he did. After that, the rakora didn’t last very long.”

At the side of my vision, I saw Kye narrow her eyes. She gave me a long, inquisitive stare before opening her mouth again. “What was that, by the way? At the end there. I’ve never known you to know… any magic.”

I froze. Right, I reminded myself. Even since Farhar, I’d only really implored the white flame for training. Only used it to heighten and make up for my body’s faults during hunts. She wouldn’t know.

“Ah…” I started, the headache and numbness showing their colors again. My mind started to fog, and I didn’t exactly know where to start. “It’s new. Something I’ve been working on lately. If you remember back… back when I broke us out of the mercenary camp…”

Kye’s face lit up with tired recognition. She remembered, then. When I’d told her about the white flames and how they’d been the reason I’d gotten out at all. She’d questioned me about them back then, but it hadn’t come up since.

My companion nodded, her lips parting. Then, however, she shook her head briskly. Her face contorted into an uncomfortable wince and she slumped back. “I do—but just… you’ll have to tell me later.” I raised an eyebrow at her as she settled on her bedroll. She chuckled. “Soul drain is a bitch. I’ve gotta…”

She trailed off, waving her hand dismissively. I understood, though, and settled back myself. The tiredness showed again, pulling me down. Toward the deep, lovely abyss.

But as my eyelids dragged shut, I couldn’t help the worries. I couldn’t help but think about the rakora—the threat we’d just faced. Even as I heard Bane setting up shifts of watch in the background, I still didn’t feel entirely at ease. That had been one threat, and there were more on the way. Greater, more sinister, and far more dangerous ones for the future.

We had to make sure we’d be ready for that. I had to make sure I’d be ready. But with sleep tugging me down, eventually I just gave in. I decided that we could figure it out later because I knew we could. I knew we would.

Tomorrow was another day.