CHAD
We spend the next hour attempting to patch up Darkbirch's defenses. It won’t be enough to hold back a clearblood invasion, should they decide to come at us with everything they’ve got. But they won’t. That isn’t their endgame. Not yet.
“I'm trying to understand what they were thinking,” Brynn says.
She's perched on the edge of the road, looking like hell warmed over. Behind her, the forest stands like a wall of shadows. Any clearblood still in there is beast chow by now. The on-duty Warden unleashed every nightmare creature we keep on retainer into those woods tonight—Darkbirch’s idea of home security.
“They were feeling us out,” Corvin says, arms crossed. “Testing our defenses once they suspected we're not keeping the dragon in Darkbirch.”
“It still seems reckless,” she says.
“Or desperate,” I cut in, already mapping out our next move.
More darkbloods come out to assist with the injured guards, managing their transport to the infirmary one gurney at a time, while I take a closer look at the six clearblood bodies we recovered.
Lieutenants Asher, Rennington, Gordon, and Ezra didn’tsurvive. Lieutenant Phillips got lucky, along with what was left of their armored dragon-infused freaks.
We’ve got two suits of armor to study, though, from the two armored guys that Corvin and I did manage to kill. All in all, this could’ve been much worse.
Brynn arches an eyebrow. “Desperate?”
“They want their dragon back,” Corvin says, nodding at my assessment. “But they're flying blind. No idea where he is or whose side he's on now. The clearbloods are scrambling, probably got every coven they can spare hunting for the beast.”
“Buys us a little time to get our own bearings,” I say, mentally calculating how to leverage this advantage.
Brynn's laugh is bitter. She jabs a finger toward our dead, laid out under black sheets. “So that's tonight's silver lining? We get 'breathing room' while they get body bags?”
I shrug. “My sources didn't flag this mission.” Simple fact. No excuses.
She leans in, close enough I can smell blood and sweat on her. “Then your sources are shit.”
“Brynn.” Corvin's voice drops an octave, that commander tone that usually makes rookies piss themselves. “You're dismissed. Go sleep it off.”
“I've got research, reports to file about the?—”
“That's an order.” He cuts through her protest like it's made of tissue paper. “Quarters. Now.”
She hesitates, but I can tell she doesn’t have much of a fight left in her. I rattled her cage plenty during that training session, and that second Gaudian Pulse was a bitch. Plus summoning three ancestors? That'd knock even Esme on her ass.
“Fine...” she mutters.
Corvin and I watch her zombie-shuffle past the gates and up the cobblestones. Poor bookworm looks like roadkill.
“They'll try again,” Corvin grumbles, rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Maybe with different tactics. Warden should've unleashed the monsters sooner.”
“I doubt it would’ve made much of a difference tonight,” Ireply, then point to one of the runes on a clearblood’s armor. “These are concealment spells. No monster would’ve sniffed them out before they revealed themselves.”
“At least we sent them a clear message tonight,” he says. “Even with our shields not fully operational, we can still put up a fight.”
I've seen this dance my whole life. Clearbloods, darkbloods—we're like two drunk assholes at a bar who can't remember why they started fighting. Peace shows up for a coffee break, then someone gets stabbed, someone retaliates, and we're back to our regularly scheduled bloodbath. It's almost comical, if you're into gallows humor. Which, unfortunately, I am.
“Don’t you think we should consider another avenue, going forward?” I ask Corvin as we escort the coven’s administrative staff into the basement morgue, where we’re taking the recovered clearblood bodies. “We’ve been racing toward the finish line, but the clearbloods have an upper hand with that dragon juice. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out another way to stay ahead of the game.”
“You have little faith in us,” Corvin mutters.
The basement reeks of formaldehyde and old blood. Colder than I remember, but maybe that's just the adrenaline crash hitting me like a freight train. Every nerve ending in my body's screaming, and I can't shake the image of Brynn Salem almost becoming another body bag on my watch. Shit.
“Numbers don't lie,” I press. “We're outnumbered, outgunned, and they've still got dragon fire weapons while we've got, what exactly? Wake up. They stumbled tonight, but tomorrow? They'll be back with a vengeance and a battle plan.”
