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In its grip, Thea spotted the remains of an animal skeleton – but surely that wasn’t enough to sustain the monster?
‘Can you tell what the original host was?’ she asked, unsheathing her own blade and approaching the outer tendrils of the creature cautiously.
‘Not from a safe distance,’ Wilder murmured, not taking his eyes off the thing as he dug through his pocket for that same glass vial he’d used on the cliffs. He handed it to Thea. ‘A few drops are all you need.’
Thea wrapped her fingers around the vial, hiding her surprise.
‘Get as close to the main body as you can, but remember —’
‘Don’t let it touch me, I know,’ Thea finished for him as she inched towards the monster.
Sensing her approach, several of its arm-like limbs unfurled, ready to wrap around her and inflict the unimaginable pain Wilder had described to her. But Thea wasn’t afraid; she was liberated. Her mentor hadn’t hesitated to give her this opportunity. Somewhere along the way, Wilder had understood that she needed to learn for herself – and that to do that, she would need to walk beside danger, and into it, in order to grow stronger.
Ever so carefully, she uncorked the vial with her teeth, her sword in her other hand. She was light on her feet as she avoided the creeping tendrils of vine and reached a clearing of rubble beside the main mass of the blight.
Taking a breath, she poured several drops of liquid onto it.
Steam hissed from the vines and the creature made a strange whistling noise, a burning smell singeing the air —
Thea expected to feel relief, but her nose tickled as she scented something beyond the monster turning to stone before her. She whirled around, tossing aside the vial and unsheathing her dagger.
Burnt hair. That was what she could smell, and it usually only meant one thing.
Wilder was close, poised for violence as well: his mighty swords at the ready, his body coiled to spring into action at any moment, his eyes bright and alert.
Thea scanned the ruins. There was no sign of anything untoward, but the crawling sensation across her skin, the acrid scent in the air, told her that they were out there… Wraiths. Reapers.
‘Can you tell how many?’ she murmured to Wilder.
‘Not from the smell alone.’ He twirled a blade, a muscle twitching in his jaw. ‘The blight was fucking bait.’
Thea’s blood went cold. ‘Surely they —’
An ear-piercing shriek cut through her words and the air around them.
Darkness swept through the ruins. A gale of wind caused by a pair of membranous wings followed.
A shadow wraith.
It landed before Warsword and apprentice, stretching its wings menacingly, flashing its talons as threads of obsidian leaked from its strange, sinewy frame. Snarling, the monster took a step towards them, its leathery skin gleaming in the watery rays of sun that filtered through its power.
Thea dug her heels into the ground, fear clenching around her heart.
It’s a wraith, not a reaper. You’ve faced worse than this, she told herself. She expected Wilder to launch himself at the creature. The Warsword didn’t move. For a second she thought he might be enthralled by the darkness and all the horrors it could drag from one’s mind, but Wilder was completely lucid, just still.
His gaze slid to Thea, and he raised a single brow, as if to say,Now’s your chance, Apprentice.
A slow smile spread across his face. That was all it took for Thea to hurl herself at the wraith, her blades blurs of silver as she ducked the slash of its talons and delivered deep cuts to the backs of its legs.
She was already facing it again, stepping carefully amid the rubble, trying to read its next move. The wraith struck out once more, this time with a thick lash of onyx power. She carved clean through it and the creature screamed, thrashing as though the tendrils were an extension of its body. Incensed, it clawed at her with its ragged talons.
Thea was fast, but not fast enough.
Piercing agony lanced through her left arm, snatching the breath from her lungs, the air whistling between her teeth as she hissed in pain.
But she did not stop.
Whips of magic lashed out of the wraith, aiming not only for her, but for Wilder, who was still standing on the outskirts of the skirmish, swords in hands, watching. But he made no move to defend himself, no move to interfere as those coils of darkness came for them both.
