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If I wasn’t harsh, she wouldn’t listen. A healthy dose of fear was required, or she would get herself killed. And the thought of her dead, of her body lifeless and cold, brought a whole new wave of emotion crashing into my chest.
I loathed it. Caring for someone was how you got yourself killed.
The group of recruits was led around the many derelict shelters and then thrust into a circular area constructed of stone and cracked white—
Bones.
Maybe there wouldn’t be as much time to plan as I’d thought.
A man wearing a thick black coat that billowed out behind him entered the ring, and the recruits were all kicked down to their knees by the guards. Patrick lifted his head, staring boldly into the masked man’s eyes at the center of it all. Again, his bravery was surprising.
“Who are you?!”
That was Jake, shouting and desperate. He lost his balance and tumbled onto his side, only to be hauled back into position by one of the guards.
The man cloaked in black, the clear leader of these feral people, raised his gloved hands to the heavens, to the moon glowing brightly above. I held my breath as I awaited his next move, looking for any indication of how this day would end.
If there wasn’t enough time to save them, then I would have to drag Kiara out of here kicking and screaming. My hands twitched on her back, readying themselves for action.
Slowly, the man began to remove his cloth mask, the linen falling to the ground at his feet. In that moment, I knew blood was sure to be spilled today.
His skin was as gray as the reeds we crouched behind, chunks of his flesh missing and other patches blackened by decay. But that wasn’t what had me reaching for my blade.
No. It was the long, sharp teeth that protruded from a gaping mouth devoid of lips.
He unhinged his jaw, releasing a spine-chilling howl that was most certainly not human. The rest joined in, a chorus of beasts and death.
I knew what was about to happen—
And it wouldn’t end well for the recruits.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kiara
The cursed lands are said to be protected by creatures neither human nor animal. Few have seen them and lived to tell the tale, but it is often wondered if they’re there to safeguard the cure to Asidia’s plight. Or if they’re simply the result of the Mist’s poison.
Excerpt from Asidian Lore: A Tale of the Gods
Even at a distance, I could see the fangs.
Patrick nearly tumbled to his side as the ringleader removed the cloth masking his grotesque features. Features that weren’t human. The fangs jutted out from his gums like a hundred ivory daggers, the tips falling to the dip of his chin. Had he any lips, they would have been sliced and bloody.
As his jaw unhinged and contorted, widening to a degree that should have been impossible, I knew what was in store for my fellow recruits.
I felt an arm tighten around my torso.
Jude.
I’d almost completely forgotten about him in my panic. Peering over my shoulder, I noted that he, too, was wide-eyed and full of healthy fear, and the emotions he usually hid so well were now on clear display.
Coming from him, that wasn’t a good sign.
While my body burned to move, to do anything at all besides stay hidden like a coward, my limbs simply wouldn’t work.
The men and women of the village stomped closer, forming a line around the circle and their undead leader. One by one, the villagers removed the cloths covering their faces, the dusty rags dropping to the ground and swept away by the vile wind. It reeked of rotten flesh and mold—how I imagined Death himself to smell.
We needed to do something.Now.
