Fury surges, blinding and absolute, a fire that ignites in the pit of my stomach and spreads like poison through my veins. My jaw clenches so tight my teeth grind together, my body trembling, not from sorrow, not from fear, but from the unrelenting, soul-scorchinghatredthat comes only when someone threatens what you love most.
I lift my hand, fingers trembling with the sheer effort of holding back the inferno I long to unleash. But the twin doesn’t wait. She lunges.
Teeth bared. A snarl tearing from her throat. One arm lifted high as her fingers twist into talons, long, curved. Blades made of bone and malice.
I reach for the fire, my green flames coiling in answer, but I don’t need them.
Ashen moves first.
He hurtles from the helm in a blur of smoke and muscle, slamming into her side with a bone-rattling crash. The impact sends them sprawling across the deck in a whirl of limbs and mist. Her form is swallowed by his shadow, their bodies locked in a brutal tangle.
I step forward, fire dancing at my fingertips, ready to end it. Burn her to cinders. But then…
Smoke surges.
Shapes shift.
And suddenly there aretwoAshens.
Identical.
“Ashen!” I cry out.
Both heads whip toward me. Two pairs of white eyes.
But then they crash together again, savage and relentless, rolling across the rain-slick deck. Massive paws striking, claws scraping wood, teeth snapping like bone-cracking thunder. One pins the other, only to be hurled off with a snarl. Then teeth sink deep into flesh.
A roar splits the air.
No blood. Only thick, black tar oozing from the wound, slow and vile, dragging itself along the planks.
My breath catches.
Fae don’t bleed black.
But… does their magic mimic even blood when they shift?
The other Ashen lunges and bites, ripping open a line along the first one’s flank. The same foul tar spills, slick and inky.
No. No, no, this cannot be happening.
My thoughts race, but with every snap of their jaws, every brutal blow, more of Ashen is torn apart and every heartbeat I hesitate, I risk losing him.
I have tochoose.
Then the cabin door creaks open.
I spin around, flames ready to devour anything in their path, but it’s Ronin.
He stands in the doorway, my daughter cradled to his chest.
My eyes flash green, the color surging with barely leashed power. “Get back inside,” I growl, and it’s not my voice that answers. It’s something older. Wilder. Unfamiliar even to me.
Ronin startles. His arms tighten around my daughter. “Right,” he chokes, his eyes too wide. He obeys without hesitation, vanishing behind the door as it slams shut with finality.
I turn back to the chaos.
Two Ashens.
