Chapter One

Immortal Prey

This close to the Veil, Ruslan’s Soul was little better than a blunt sword. Effective, but not exactly efficient. His magic was sluggish and stiff, as if his spiritual channels had constricted to the point of collapse, and he found it difficult to breathe. Any attempts to rally his magic or cycle the essence of his spiritual core were met with a deep, throbbing ache akin to that of a torn muscle or bruised bone. Knowing the effects of this warped territory was one thing, but experiencing them first-hand was quite another.

Mercifully, both his mental and physical cores were left relatively unscathed. Their respective meridians flowed normally, save for those that linked the two to his spiritual core. Which was to be expected. Their ache was not quite so keen, but irked him nonetheless. As terrible as he felt, though, he knew their prey fared far worse.

From his vantage in the sky, he surveyed the world below with a sharp eye. Rallying his listless Soul, he reached out with his awareness, casting an invisible net through the impenetrable mists of the Endari Wilds. A thousand shimmering Souls called out to him like diamonds in the sand, though none belonged to the Matriarch he sought. Even with her Soul shackled, it would call to him like a burning sun regardless of the Veil's effects.

Nothing below them was beyond its Second Ascension.

At least, nothing within the scope of his waning reach.

He sighed and deftly adjusted his seat in the saddle. His wyvern shifted beneath him, catching a new current and following it along the edge of the mountain. The valley below was quiet, the crags little more than silent sentries in the morning mists. It would have been picturesque, had the Veil not loomed like some dark, unfathomable god upon the horizon. He shuddered, longing for the days before he’d gained his Truesight.

Prior to his Fifth Ascension, the Veil had appeared as nothing more than a fog–laden mountain range. Now, he saw a maelstrom; a great, stationary storm cloud of warring color and distorted air that roiled his gut with each passing moment. Every now and again, he swore thunder rumbled somewhere within the brooding mass. Why his target had chosen to venture here, of all places, was beyond him. Powerful as she was, even she wouldn't be spared the Veil’s ire.

Between the oppressive effects of the environment itself and the wards branding her Soul, the former Matriarch was crippled, no more a magical threat than a child approaching their First Ascension. Still, he and his men would have to tread carefully. Her body still bore the benefits of a Puresoul. No amount of shackling would change that, and she’d slipped the fullsilver cuffs hindering her strength when she’d made her escape a week prior. Even at his current Ascension, she could still collapse his entire rib cage with the tip of her finger.

Pursing his lips at the reminder, he spared a glance toward his quiver. The engraved black leather rested comfortably at the front of his saddle, unperturbed by the occasional beats of his wyvern’s massive wings. Five fullsilver arrows - an Empire's ransom- waited within. From the beginning, he knew the risks this mission would entail. Any one of his men could die trying to subdue the Matriarch. He could as well, if things turned south, but one well placed arrow would make all the difference.

It wouldn't be long now, he knew. His quarry was running out of options as quickly as she was running out of viable ground. Any further east and she would cross into the Veil itself. He had to wonder, though, if that had been her plan all along. Why else would she flee here, of all places? What did she have to gain by crossing into the human lands beneath the eye of the Veil? Surely their blood was of no use to her, for they bore no measurable magic, nor ability to forge meridians. Their Souls were too weak, their bodies too fragile.

The Veil protected them from the world at large. A preserve, onto itself. He could only imagine what it was like living beneath its smothering embrace. Though, he supposed they were ignorant of its reign. If they could not sense its presence, did they know it was there at all?

He decided it was best not to speculate.

The humans were best left alone in their ignorance.

And he had his duty.

Beneath him, his wyvern growled a warning, her hackles raised. Ruslan leaned forward, gaze sweeping the swath of forest below as Tanuzet banked right toward the Veil. He leaned with her, balancing his weight in accordance with her wings as they peeled away from the mountainside with the rest of his host in toe. The sudden rush of half a dozen leathery wings broke the silence of the slopes; sent mist and cloud alike whorling in their midst.

Ruslan raked his dulled awareness through the valley below, combing through pine and crag alike for the source of Tanuzet’s unrest. Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t been the only wyvern to notice something amiss. Their sense of smell was second to none, regardless of Ascension. Once they caught a scent, it was only a matter of time until they found the source. Which meant their prey was close.

Tanuzet descended toward the canopy with renewed anticipation, her horned head scouring the world below with her nostrils flared. Up ahead, the interminable fog rendered any visual search pointless. It was so thick, it was near impossible to make out the pointed crowns of the pines at lower elevations, let alone what might dwell between them. The mountain tops were but islands floating in a sea of white. If the Matriarch fled any further into those depths, they’d likely never find her.

Their awareness could only help so much, in a place like this.

When Tanuzet’s attention narrowed, Ruslan reached out once more. There, on the edge of his reach, he sensed her. He shuddered, fearing what would come next. Checking his resolve, he laid a hand upon the glinting, sea-green scales of the wyvern’s back.

“Shall we finish this?” He asked grimly.

He felt her consciousness brush his own and the intent he read was clear: she was as eager to end this as he was. Angling her wings, she speared down toward the mysterious world below. A familiar sense of weightlessness swept through Ruslan and he adjusted himself in the saddle. There was no need to guide Tanuzet, not when she could follow the Matriarch’s scent more keenly than he could with his own Soul. Instead, he retrieved one of the priceless arrows from his quiver, notched it to the string of his bow, and waited.

The long, silver tip shown in the light, near as long as his hand with its barbed, razor edge. Nothing disrupted the physical core quite like fullsilver and he shuddered at the sight of it. The metal had to come into contact with the skin to prove effective. The greater the contact, the greater the effect. If he could sink an arrow deep enough into her flesh, he could disrupt her core and her meridians entirely. A shot through the heart would be ideal, but he was certain she wasn’t going to make it easy. She was a Puresoul, after all. He’d be lucky to hit her at all, regardless of his Path.

Finding a break in the canopy, the wyvern’s wings flared wide with a leathery snap. The force of the air beneath them thrashed the branches below and she dove through a hollow and into the forest itself. The trees of the Endari Wilds were said to be among the largest in the world, save for those found in the Keldari homeland. Ordinarily, a fully grown wyvern could pass through them with relative ease, though their close proximity to one another along the more mountainous terrain proved more difficult to negotiate. The tight turns and narrow spaces forced Ruslan close against the saddle.

He heard the others dive in close behind him and he didn’t have to look back to know Ayduin and her copper were hot on Tanuzet’s tail. The other four were not far either, dodging and weaving to the best of their ability while maintaining speed. One clipped a wing on a wayward branch. The resulting snap and growl of frustration were the only sound beyond the whistling of the wind left in their wake.

Up ahead, Ruslan sensed an opening in the forest. Reading his Intent, Tanuzet adjusted her course and veered right. As she did, Ruslan monitored the position of their quarry. With his waning awareness, it was difficult to tell whether she had been alerted to their proximity or not. His magic stalled and even his essence grew stiff and viscous in his channels. Inwardly, he cursed. Those of his Wing would be lucky if any of their strikes landed before they dissipated entirely.

With a rush of her wings, Tanuzet landed upon a thick branch midway up an ancient tree as they reached the break in the forest. A heartbeat later, a copper beast bearing a Nar’Adai woman landed beside them. Ayduin tossed her long, black braid back over her shoulder, her grey-blue skin a stark contrast to the vibrancy of her mount. She was similarly crouched in her saddle, bow in hand. Frost crept along the length of her arrow, reinforcing the tip and adding a few additional inches to its length. Though she hadn’t fully mastered her Black Ice Technique, it might be enough to pierce the vampire’s flesh. Of course, it wouldn’t have the same effect of fullsilver, but it would still prove a viable distraction while he struck. If she could maintain it long enough to prove useful, that was. The Veil siphoned away magic almost as quickly as it was drawn into a Technique and draining one’s spiritual reserves was only a matter of time. They’d used their magic sparingly these last few days, but their reservoirs weren’t endless. The wyvern’s had fared far better, in that regard.

She spared him a glance, one dark brow arched in question.

He nodded, then spared a glance toward the other four in his charge. They waited nearby, perched upon similarly thick branches higher up along neighboring trees.

“Keep your distance and stay sharp,” Ruslan said. “Use the flash charges if you have to.”

He dipped his chin, then reached his hand and patted Tanuzet’s hide twice. Silently, she activated her Suppression Technique, disrupting the airflow and creating a miniature vacuum around the ears of wyvern and rider alike. With the Veil so close she wouldn't be able to hold the Technique long.

They would have to be quick.

The world grew silent in an instant and Ruslan shuddered as the distortion snapped into place. Ayduin’s copper wyvern shook his head in discomfort and the woman herself looked mildly annoyed, but it was better than the alternative. The Matriarch’s indomitable voice would have them tearing each other apart the moment she parted her lips. Thankfully, the Veil limited her range, but couldn’t nullify it entirely. Ruslan wasn’t sure what her range was, exactly, and he didn’t intend to find out.

With a deep breath, he coaxed Tanuzet and the others onward. The closer they drew, the more his Soul quivered. The Matriarch’s trail led them to the very cusp of the Veil, where a wall of roiling fog rose, thick and unyielding. For a moment, Ruslan thought he would be sick. It felt as though his skull would split open at any moment and his stomach, well, he may as well have swallowed a handful of maggots.

He doubted the others fared much better. They were all fairly close in their Ascensions, yielding a comparable effect on their Souls. However, they pressed forward all the same. The world couldn’t afford a rogue Matriarch, especially one so powerful as Ezra. They would fight or they would die trying. The Oaths they’d sworn would see to it, even if their wills did not.

Ruslan focused his attention on the Puresoul and his awareness fixated on a single point beneath the arching roots of a tree a few hundred yards ahead. The Matriarch’s Soul burned like a beacon in the night. Slowly, the spines along Tanuzet’s neck and shoulders rose, stiff as the ridge down a hound’s back. She slowed, allowing the others to fly past and cover he and his wyvern’s approach. If he were to land the killing blow, he couldn’t be the main focus.

He barely registered when Tanuzet used another Technique to muffle movements entirely. Curse the Veil. Here, he was spiritually blind, no better than a child. He couldn’t monitor those under his charge either, even if he wanted to. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t sense. He’d simply have to trust in their ability and hope for the best.

Moments later, a boulder the size of a small house rocketed by, decimating the tree to his left, but he was fairly certain the strike wasn’t meant for him. Still, he reined in his nerves and held fast to the saddle. Tanuzet navigated the uppermost branches of the canopy, situating herself along a high, sheltered branch.

From their vantage, Ruslan had a clear view of the battle below. To his horror, one of the wyverns had already been downed. It laid haphazardly on its side, one wing clearly snapped while the other flapped uselessly. Though it could still move from the shoulders up, its hind end remained limp. Ruslan swallowed the lump in his throat, tried to focus. There was nothing he could do, not while the Matriarch still drew breath.

The woman darted through the trees like a shadow, evading rider and wyvern alike with a speed and grace that would put any feline to shame. Arrows and Techniques flew, splintering wood and cratering the earth below. Within moments, the offensive reign became too much and the Matriarch was forced on the back foot. For a moment, it almost appeared as though she were pinned.

Until inevitably, one of the men’s magic petered out. The Matriarch immediately capitalized on the situation, launching herself from her position along a thick branch and onto the man's wyvern. She'd moved so quickly, even Ruslan's sharp eye barely tracked her movements. The two didn't stand a chance.

The wyvern's back buckled beneath the force of her landing. Its wings flared wide and the resulting snap of its spine reverberated through the trees and into Ruslan's soul. Within the span of a heartbeat, she'd torn its rider in two. What remained of his lower half crashed into the ground with his wyvern.

Ruslan's gut twisted. In his panic, he found himself searching for his partner. Where was Ayduin? He cast a frantic gaze across the forest and breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he spotted her copper some distance away. His partner remained in the saddled, hailing arrow after arrow after the Matriarch. One clipped the woman's arm and actually broke the skin. The resulting blood snapped Ruslan back into focus. Remembering himself, he shook off his panic and readied his bow.

A sudden flash broke between the trees, white and hot. He'd forgotten about the flash charges. The blinding light sent the Matriarch plunging toward the crag-ridden terrain below. She landed among the fog-laden boulders and patchy ferns, dazed, but still very much alive.

Steeling himself, Ruslan adjusted his position along Tanuzet’s back. Her body remained poised and still, her gaze fixed ahead. Gently arching her back, she lowered her horned head, granting Ruslan a clear line of sight. With her Technique split between so many, her focus was limited. He knew she was only just able to muffle herself without breaking concentration, so the rest was up to him.

He focused upon his target, pushing all else from his mind and priming his mental channels. Raising his bow, he drew back the string and drew a deep breath. His awareness honed, supplemented by his bridged channels, and when he released his breath, his arrow flew with it.