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In the next breath, the cyclone tightened to a single stream like a water spout rising from the ground, and it snaked from between the clamoring bodies of the dead and wound its way through the chaos of the battlefield until it was out of sight. I lurched forward as if to follow, but Morrette held me back with a tight grip on my bicep.

“Don’t bother,” Morrette spat angrily. “She has likely already mimicked one of your soldiers. It will be impossible to find her in all this." She waved toward the battlefield, the ground almost entirely covered in bodies. "And she knows she lost. All of hertribesmen are dead. Gennel will hide and lick her wounds for a while before striking again.”

I looked out from our vantage above the shallow valley and realized Morrette was right. No one alive held the weapons of the Hollows tribes or wore their furs. The revenants didn’t seem to be engaging with my men, and likewise, the soldiers I brought left them alone, probably more out of fear than comradery. The sheer amount of power it must have taken to raise and control an army like this… I couldn't even wrap my mind around it.

This was the army she needed in the Frigid War. She gave her people the victory they deserved.

Lost in the wonder of winning this unbelievable fight, I didn’t notice the absence of the purple glow that blanketed the area until Morrette stepped forward with a hand extended upward. The tome —I had completely forgotten it was still floating above us—drifted down gently to land in her palm that snapped it shut with a dullthud,and she tucked it under her arm. When the book closed, every resurrected body crumpled to the ground wherever they stood, filling the air with the loud, metallic clamoring of armor and weapons clanging together as they fell. The noise was almost unbearable to my sensitive ears, and they tucked close to my head to block it out.

I hoped the dead of Julra could finally know peace after death. But I had a horrible feeling Gennel would not slink away to nonexistence. Knowing she was out there, already lurking among my troops, made my stomach twist unpleasantly. Maybe Dayer could find a way to run her out before we marched back to Gilamorst. She had seemed extremely weak when she fled. I doubted Gennel would be an immediate issue, with injuries like that.

That kind of thirst for revenge didn’t die with one battle.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Irin

This is my last entry to “The Tragic History of Julra,” I fear. I willingly dedicated my entire life to the illustrious

kingdom since starting this tome at the age of 32, and in turn, it has tilted my perspective to a new and enlightened

view of this beautiful world. I have no regrets, only hope that Princept Morrette and their family found peace. Sinna, I

dedicate this book to you, my love. Thank you for sharing your mind, your culture, and your life with me. I look

forward to meeting you in Wira’s embrace.

-"The Tragic History of Julra," by High Scholar Yuret Wend, Year 100 of Ber's First Reign

Morrette and I stood in silence, just taking in the remnants of the battlefield below us. Unable to maintain this beastly form any longer, I let go of the tight reins I held it in to allow my body to shift back to its smaller human form. The relief that came with it was like taking off a heavy set of armor. As fur shed and muscle shrank down, I felt so much lighter and flexible. Morrette didn't seem disturbed by the transformation, with just a cursory glance my way before turning her head toward the towering wall of the Clifftombs.

Beolf hobbled up the side of the hill to my side on foot. Nursing a gash on his elbow, he ripped the greave off to staunch it with a bandage. By the time he made it over, I had reclaimed enough of my humanity to speak unhindered by fangs or a muzzle.

“I think it’s safe to say the Hollows population is well and truly decimated now.” Beolf's eyes jumped between us, silently measuring up Morrette's still form and the sword still clutched in her other hand.

“I want confirmation of Gennel’s whereabouts. Have the trackers fan out and try to sense any concealment spells in the area.” I turned my attention momentarily to where Behar was pulling himself back up onto his paws. My steps were still a bit unsteady, getting used to walking on shorter legs again, but when I made it to his side I ran my hands ran over his chest and sides to check for any severe injuries. He was a bit tender fromthe kick—his pained whines as I pressed against that spot told me as much—but otherwise he was free of broken bones or cuts. “Good boy,” I praised the rinhound. “Thank you for your help, Behar.”

He seemed content with a copious amount of ear scratches for his service. Even when Behar appeared exhausted, his tongue lolled out happily at the attention. The reaction brought a toothy smile across my own maw despite myself.

“If she were truly dead, there would be nothing to sense,” Beolf continued. “How would we know she didn’t just run away again?”

My fangs ground together in agitation. “You’re right on that,” I finally admitted begrudgingly. “We could eradicate her identity as Gennel Rhen in Gilamorst, at least. If she does resurface, she would have to make a new persona and rebuild her influence.”

“Fucking rodent,” Beolf muttered.

I scoffed, but it was a nervous sound. “I suppose the party is over.”

“Yeah, and you better hurry to catch the host.” Beolf jerked his head toward Morrette’s retreating form down the hill's slope. “From what Dayer has been going on about the last four days, getting into the Clifftombs is impossible without her.”

We were close enough to the castle that her trek wasn't far, skirting around the edge of the cluttered valley toward the drawbridge, now being lowered across its moat. The fluttering of dark fabric whipped from her lifted arm, as ifshewere the one controlling it. Of all the things I'd seen since riding up to this mess, that felt like the least wild thing to happen this day.

"Gods damn it!" Twisting my neck and shrugging my shoulders as if to relieve some tension, I tried to push the rest of the beast down and snap the rest of my human form back into place. If done slow enough, the process was mostly painless.But I had an urgency that pressed me to revert back before I attempted to confront Morrette about… everything.

“Stay with Behar. Make sure he doesn’t run.”

I didn’t wait to hear his response before loping down the hill to catch up to Morrette, who had already stepped onto the drawbridge. It was an exhausting effort, but by the time I made it within range of yelling I was entirely myself, tattered clothes draping from my smaller frame and leaving me exposed to the chill. Steam wafted from whatever bare skin hit the wintery Julran air with the excessive heat my body let loose from the change.

“Morrette! Wait, I need to talk to you!”