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THE MONSTER IN ME

The atmosphere shifted.

I felt it in the air as I walked the Rise after Vikter relieved me. I was already on edge, brimming with unspent energy. Part of it was due to the frustration of it going on the second day of the Maiden being an absolute no-show. Whatever that shit was with the Duke. Her nightmares. Mine. That fucking dead Lord Devries.

But what caused the small hairs all over my body to rise was something else entirely.

The silence on the Rise was unsettling as I stalked toward the front, the cold breeze catching the godsdamn mantle. Up ahead, I saw a whole damn line of guards staring out over the barren lands. Spotting Pence’s fair head, I went up to where he stood at an archer’s nest, bow in hand. “What’s going…?” I trailed off as my gaze left his pale face and focused beyond the Rise and the steel row of lit torches.

Then, I didn’t need an answer.

I saw it.

The mist.

It was so thick that it nearly obscured the Blood Forest, and it moved under the moonlight, churning and slipping across the ground in a way that was not at all typical.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” Pence rasped. “The mist was normal, you know? Just a foot or so above the ground, but then it started thickening and moving. It’s already tripled in size in the last three minutes.”

That was undoubtedly not a good sign.

Everyone on the Rise knew that—knew what was in that mist.

The Craven.

I hadn’t seen it get like this here, but it reminded me of the Primal mist that blanketed the Skotos Mountains in the east—the magic of the gods that shielded the Kingdom of Atlantia. And it was all kinds of fucked-up how that magic had somehow become so distorted here. How it protected the monsters the Ascended created.

No one could really answer why the mist behaved this way in Solis. Not even the Elders in Atlantia. But the reason wasn’t the most pressing issue at the moment. The mist had already spread out on both sides as far as the eye could see, and while the distance between the Rise and the mist was about the width and length of the Lower Ward, it was not far enough as I watched tendrils seep out, stretching yards ahead. It was like a collective breath was held on the Rise as the mist reached the standing torches.

The breeze stilled.

But the flames began to flicker and then dance wildly, the fire casting frenzied shadows across the ground. What I wouldn’t give for one of our Atlantian crossbows. They were far superior and did a hell of a lot more damage than the recurve bows. I reached for the hilt of my broadsword.

The middle torch was the first to go out. The rest followed rapidly, plunging the land outside the Rise into utter darkness.

“Light it up!” Lieutenant Smyth’s command cracked the silence.

All down the Rise, guards hurried forward with arrow tips wrapped in tight cloth containing a gunpowder mixture behind the arrowheads. One after another, fire sparked. Then they were released, slicing through the night sky and sharply veering down, slamming into a tinder-filled trench. Flames erupted from the furrow, casting a wide, orangey-red glow across the land and the mist.

Silence fell once more along the Rise as the mist rushed forward. The closer it got, the more solid it became. I squinted as it seeped into the trench and beneath the tinder, crawling above it, smothering the flames within moments of them being lit.

Dark, silvery-moonlit shapes could be seen in the mist. Twisted bodies. The entirety of the mist was filled with them.

“Sound the alarms,” someone shouted from the ground below. “Sound the alarms.”

Horns went off at the four corners of the Rise, signaling the impending attack on the city. More like a siege as I turned and headed for the nearby stairs. Within moments, lights were extinguished all throughout Masadonia as homes and still-open businesses went dark—all except for the Temples—the air going quiet with fear.

Because Craven hordes had breached the cities before, and even if none made it past the Rise, many families would lose loved ones tonight.

As archers were ordered to fire, I heard a distant rumble, the grinding of iron against stone. I cast a glance at the castle. Thick and heavy iron doors were already beginning their descent at every entry point to the stronghold. Everyone inside would be safe—most importantly, the Maiden. She would be behind feet of stone and iron in a few minutes, and Vikter was with her.

“Where are you going?” Pence called as he grabbed a quiver of arrows.

“To fight.”

Knowing what that meant, Pence’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t have to. You’re a Royal Guard. You’re the Maiden’s—”

I cut him off. “I know.” As I reached the stairs, I added, “Stay alive.”