Page 173 of The Reaping Rose

Wilder moves on instinct, turning his back until we all form a small circle. Our weapons are ready as the Arch stays quiet. For a moment, I wonder if Malachi has decided to call off this battle since I didn’t show up alone. But then I hear it.

Something scratching.

Nails on stone?

No—claws.

“What is that?” Greer squints at the forest. Above it, the air begins to churn in a slow, dark circle.

Callum focuses on the wind, sending out a wave of his own magic as he tests the edges of what stirs before us. Until his eyes widen and he pulls his magic back in.

“It can’t be.”

“It can’t be what?” Greer’s question has barely left her lips when something towers in the shadows.

A beast slithers like a serpent through the forest, winding through the trees on its belly. Its body is as long as the beach. White and cream scales cover its mass, with tufts of fur on its back.

The horns that stick from its head are like branches, jagged and reaching in many directions. It breaks the line of trees, and then it lifts on so many legs—so many feet—I can’t count them all from where I stand.

Sharp, curved claws dig into the sand, gleaming in the moonlight. The creature grows as it stands, lifting its front legs entirely off the ground. A frightening serpent of the night with sharp teeth and even sharper eyes stands before us.

“I haven’t seen one since Everquell was split open by the Well,” Atlas says.

“This isn’t like the ones in Everquell.” Wilder stands tense when the beast’s black eyes blink at us.

A drip of tar slides down its scaly face. It leaks between its fangs. The taint of the Well reeks from its pores. Rot and death.

“What is it?” I back up a step with everyone else when it moves toward us.

Wilder shifts, just as its mouth opens and a crackle of embers unleashes from its throat. “A palemor.”

Chapter 58

Wilder

“Godsdamn it.” I throw out my hands as a wave of flame seethes through the palemor’s teeth. It flares across the beach, stopping at the line I’ve drawn with my magic.

Aether sears as I hold the barrier. The palemor is too strong.

Callum reaches his arms out at his sides, wrapping the wind in a shell around us, closing us in and weaving his magic through mine to temper the palemor’s flames, which are already fraying the edges.

A palemor is half serpent, half dragon. It’s one of the few creatures that was not born of either of these two realms but found its way here from another place. Staring at the creature ahead, reeking of the Well, I wonder what horrible constellation this beast crawled out of.

Unlike creatures from here, a palemor wields its own magic, similar to Fae. They are able to harness what is within them, which, in the case of a palemor, is breath of hot flame.

The palemor’s wicked eyes turn to red slits as they narrow. It exhales another wave of fire as my magic starts to falter. Apart from the palemor’s incredible strength, something else pulses nearby, distracting my senses.

A static pulse rolls in waves, toying with my magic.

The orb is near.

“There you are, there you are,” it whispers to me, even if the words are likely meant for someone else.

In the Ley Court, the orb affected how my aether could be wielded. Something ancient stirs within the orb, wrestling against a part of me.

“I searched. I promised I would always look for you. There you are. There you are.”

“I’m almost there,” Atlas says, shoving his sword up and snapping me from my thoughts. “Hold the barrier… Steady.”