The trouble startsat the ravine.
River slows her horse. I do too, without thinking. My skin prickles. Not from cold—there’s heat in the rocks still—but frompresence. Like the land’s holding its breath.
I sniff once. Again. Something’s off.
She turns in the saddle. “What is it?”
I lift a finger. Still. Listen.
Then I hear it—just behind the breeze. Metal sliding against leather. Soft, but not soft enough.
“Incoming,” I growl.
She doesn’t ask how I know. She trusts me. Just draws her blades and kicks her horse forward.
They come out of the rocks fast—half a dozen, maybe more. Faces hidden by ragged scarves and broken helms. Not soldiers. Not bandits, either. Too clean. Too focused.
Mercenaries.
Paid to intercept.
Paid tokill.
I drop off my horse before it finishes its startled whinny, boots slamming into the dirt as I roll and come up crouched. Axe out. Blood humming.
The first one lunges. He’s big. Quick. But sloppy.
I catch the swing of his sword on the haft of my axe, spin inside his reach, and slam my elbow into his jaw. Bone cracks. He stumbles. I bury the axe in his thigh, twist, and rip it free.
Screaming starts.
Not mine.
I feel my body shift—subtle at first. Skin thickening. Nails lengthening. My mouth stretches, sharpens. My bones don’t crack when they change anymore. They justreform, smooth and fast like pressed iron. Strength floods my limbs.
Another merc comes at me—daggers raised.
I let him get close.
Too close.
Then I grab his wrist, twist it until he squeals, and slam his head into my knee hard enough to drop him. He twitches once. Then nothing.
Behind me, I hear River’s blades singing—two fast strikes, a pause, a grunt. She’s holding her own. Good. I don’t have time to babysit.
Two more circle me. One on each side. Coordinated.
I grin.
“Want to see something scary?” I growl.
They don’t answer. Just attack.
I let the beast take more. Not all of it—not yet. But enough.
My muscles ripple, shoulders broadening. My eyes burn gold. My vision sharpens until I can see the sweat on their foreheads, the hesitation in their grips.
I move faster than I should.
