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Of that, she was certain. Though she didn’t know what future lay ahead, Sarya was certain that she wanted Bannin in it. Whatever challenges and tragedies they would face…she wanted to face them with him.
Beginning now.
With happiness lifting through her voice, she called to him across the field. “If you’re thirsty, I’ve got something wet for you here!”
A drink. A kiss. Whatever he wished.
Bannin turned, yet the grin he wore contorted into an expression of horror. Abruptly Sarya became aware of how utterly quiet it was. No birds. No bugs. Nothing but the wooden creak behind her.
Then Bannin’s roar. “SARYA!”
She began to pivot—too late. Agony speared through her side as one of the demon’s wooden vines punched through her flesh. She stumbled forward, then caught herself and swung the scythe. Another vine had wrapped around its handle. She couldn’t get any force behind the blade, and she screamed when the vine impaling her side ripped fully through her stomach to wrap around her waist, as if the demon intended to drag her back into the forest with it.
Bellowing her name, Bannin charged toward them. He whipped the scythe blade through the vine connecting Sarya to the demon. The tension dragging at her suddenly slackened. Amidst a horrible shriek from the demon, Sarya fell to her knees—then gritted her teeth and snapped the long trailing end of the vine closer to her skin, so that she wouldn’t trip over it and rip open her flesh.
“Run!” Bannin shouted, his face a mask of fury, his muscles coiled in preparation to defend her again. But although his scythe had slashed through a vine as thick as a finger, that blade would barely damage the tree-like trunk of the demon he faced.
Sarya stumbled to her feet. Then she ran—but only to the edge of the field, where she’d left her sword and Bannin his axe. Still impaled with part of the vine, her side screamed in agony as she bent to sweep up the weapons. Her head swam when she straightened back up. Desperately she fought the dizziness and spun back toward Bannin, the sword and axe clutched tightly in her hands.
Terror gripped her heart. Before, she’d only had a glimpse of the demon, enough to leave a frightening impression of a creature resembling a tree. But in the full light of day, the demon was a towering nightmare of twisted limbs and splintered teeth, made all the worse for being vaguely human in shape. Bannin had said it might have started as a twig, yet the corrupted magic people carelessly used had transformed it into this malevolent thing—and it was trying to kill him.
A handful of severed vines lay writhing on the ground. But the demon had caught Bannin’s scythe in a giant, gnarled fist. Another, thicker vine had harpooned toward his chest. Bannin fought that wooden spear now, gripping the sharp end that fought to drill through his heart, the thick muscles in his arms shaking with the effort of holding it back.
No thought did Sarya give to the agony piercing her own flesh. She sprinted toward the demon, gasping out the word to activate the charm on her sword.
Her blade burst into flames, the steel glowing white-hot. A vine shot toward her. She easily batted it out of the way, then slashed through the spear digging its way into Bannin’s chest. The demon screeched, vines flailing, its massive gnarled claw swinging toward her. Her burning blade cut through the wooden block of its fist like a spoon through custard. A limb on its other side fell to a hack of Bannin’s axe.
Snarling, Sarya shoved closer to the trunk and shoved her blade deep. She spoke the charm again and the demon shrieked in fury even as its bark-skin began to smoke, her sword burning it from within. Its splintered maw opened wide on a screech before flames erupted from the horror of a mouth.
Abruptly it fell silent.
Bannin’s axe thudded into its side. No movement. “Dead?”
Suddenly weary, Sarya nodded. She dragged her glowing blade from the demon’s wooden corpse and spoke the word to close the charm. Turning toward Bannin, she swept her gaze over him, searching for injuries. Blood trickled down his chest from a minor wound that could have been much worse had he not been so strong. Raw scrapes covered his arms and hands. But otherwise, he looked well.
Very, very well.
Sarya smiled, then huffed out a laugh, then fell. No surprise was it that Bannin caught her. His hoarse voice called her name.
Then he lifted her and she knew no more.
In years to come, Sarya would not ever fully remember the journey into the village and the healer’s hut. She recalled Bannin’s rough and urgent voice commanding her to hold on, forbidding her to leave him.
Soon after their arrival, however, and following the blinding pain of removing the vine in her side, everything remained in perfect clarity—though it was smeared a bit by the liquor the healer gave to her to numb said pain.
