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Up ahead, Gireth spread his arms out wide atop his horse. He tipped his head back in the desert breeze, filled with new appreciation for life.
Hakkan rode at her side, clinging to his foul mood since he’d had to borrow a “lesser” steed from his second-in-command. She’d healed his cut too, ignoring his protests about how it enhanced his intimidating appearance. In all honesty, there was little intimidating about her moody cousin. She was proud to claim him. Hakkan was a protector like her. More than that, he was a dreamer, set on creating a better life for those under his wing.
What remained of the Ruzgorn rode at their backs, forming a protective half circle that kicked up a wall of dirt like a tornado behind them. Hakkan had ordered three dozen of his warriors to remain at camp in case the rift split open again.
Their procession slowed at the dominating white stone gates of Firesteep. All was quiet beyond. Merchant stalls abandoned. Store fronts dim and purged of the usual bustle. The silence unsettled Tenah, twisting her stomach into tighter knots.
What had happened here when her father attacked? Without a king and a portion of their elite soldiers, had Firesteep fallen quickly?
She closed her eyes, trying to shut down images of Vozarians screaming, rushing for the gates.
“The capital looks…evacuated,” Gireth said with a confused frown.
“Senses sharp,” Hakkan reminded his warriors. He took initiative and led the way through the gates.
Tenah’s palms slicked over as Chaos called to her from within the city. A heartbeat of darkness, festering inside of her father. The lump forming in her throat felt like a boulder crushing down on her windpipe.
Feingrot slunk from alleys and rooftops. Her father’s personal guard, forged from teeth and claws and unfettered hatred. Ruzgorn didn’t hesitate. Blades and axes sang through the air. Brackish blood spattered the sandstone buildings and streets. Flames ignited from Tenah’s fingers.
“No,” Hakkan yelled, embedding his curved sword into the skull of a beast. He pointed a finger down the street. “Your father is your target today.”
She nodded, shaking out her magic. Hakkan was right. Her goal was to soothe the afflicted soul pulling the strings here.
Gireth followed her up the winding streets. Two massive feingrot paced at the entrance to the stone temple of the city catacombs.
“Fun time!” Gireth whooped in excitement, dropping from his horse and spinning his glaive with deft hands. Watching him with his weapon was like witnessing living art—powerful yet elegant.
Tenah froze in her saddle under the piercing stare of the closest feingrot.
Maltar. It was the only beast she’d named as a child, one that had often roamed the manor halls when her father and Ames were absent. The first beast she’d set loose upon their world. Maltar had preyed on her for years, taking pleasure in drawing out its hunt as her fear magnified.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had her father kept the beast as a trophy?
Are you ready to accept that you belong to us?Chaos taunted.
“Are you sure you don’t have that backward?” she said, snapping gold-hued flames into existence.
The feingrot did something unexpected. It took a step back.
Now the beast was the one afraid. Tenah could get used to this new magic. Flashing a wicked grin, she leaped from her horse and detonated. A sphere of golden energy blasted out to swallow up the entire street.
It was a relief to know she didn’t have to worry about her magic harming Gireth. She was no longer a harbor of destruction.
Gireth’s arm held still in the air, sharp end of his glaive poised over the other feingrot. His eyes shot wide open as the beast mutated, shrinking to waist height. Fur shifted from black to a pale gray, and the barbs along its tail retracted.
“What the—” he started.
The beast, healed of its infection, jumped at him. Gireth caught it with one arm as it licked from his chin to his hairline. Dark locks matted with slobber and mouth splitting into a wide grin, Gireth lost his edge, dropping his glaive to sink both hands into its lush, thick fur.
“Agh! You’re just a good wolf, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” he gushed. When he deposited the wolf onto the ground with a pat between its twitching ears, he turned on her. “Could have said that’s what you were going to do in the first place.”
It hadn’t occurred to Tenah that feingrot might have been something else, just as Corrupt had once been shadow. She would have laughed at this new discovery and at Gireth’s pouting, had she not been focused on her haunter.
Touched by her healing magic, Maltar hadn’t changed. What remained was still a creature from nightmares. A true monster at its core, birthed from another world. His black fur ended at its shoulders, the charred bones of its ribs revealed.
Tenah held her breath and waited. The beast blinked at her with clarity, as if seeing her for the first time. Maltar lowered its head then bounded into the catacombs.
“Old friend?” Gireth asked her.
