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The wings sounded again, and this time she realised they were not those of the hawk.

Something much larger blocked out the rising sun.

Shadows and darkness, and a pair of great membranous wings.

The ground shook violently as something – someone – landed before her.

Thea drew her sword, her gelding rearing up in fright. She managed to stay on, to control the horse with the Furies-given strength of her legs as the shadows faded and a towering figure emerged from the obsidian mist, twin swords of Naarvian steel swinging at his hips, red-and-black wings outstretched at his back.

Thea didn’t lower her sword, but instead, narrowed her eyes as she studied the shadow-touched warrior before her. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was tied up in a knot at the back ofhis head. Olive skin peeked out from beneath his black armour – Delmirian, if she wasn’t mistaken.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded, noting the wisps of shadows still dancing behind him.

‘Someone who cares for Wilder as much as you do.’ A determined gleam shone in the stranger’s hazel eyes.

Thea twirled her blade, her gaze narrowing in suspicion. ‘Is that so?’

‘I’m the one they call the Shadow Prince,’ he told her, his dark power thrumming in emphasis.

Thea blanched.Thiswas who her friends had spoken of?Thiswas the man who was meant to be guarding the most valuable asset in Naarva?

Thea dropped down from her horse and took a dazed step towards the huge man before her.

‘What are you doing on these roads?’ he asked, yet to draw his weapon, but poised for battle nonetheless.

‘I’m going to the Scarlet Tower. I’m going to save Wilder,’ Thea replied evenly. ‘And no one’s going to stop me.’

‘Are you sure you’re up for that?’ the shadow-touched prince challenged.

For the first time in her life, Thea let the leash she held on herself fall away, her magic surging forth. She embraced it with her whole heart. Lightning danced across her skin and travelled the length of her sword, sparking brilliant white bolts to life. Above her, ominous clouds rolled in, and the crack of thunder echoed across the lands.

She levelled the stranger with a stare. ‘What do you think?’

The winged man gave a wicked smile at the sight of her gathered power. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because I want to save my apprentice, and I can’t do it alone.’

Thea blinked, again noting the dual swords and a Warsword totem strapped to his muscular right arm…

He offered her his calloused palm and a roguish grin. ‘Talemir Starling at your service, Warsword Zoltaire.’

Thea looked from his roughened, dirt-lined skin to his square jaw and clear eyes. The dual wielding champion. The Prince of Hearts. The legend of Thezmarr.

She came back to herself, letting her magic dissipate as she took his hand and shook it firmly. ‘You’re truly here to help me break Wilder out of the Scarlet Tower?’

‘As I said, I can’t do it alone. And nor can you.’

Thea dropped his hand and, sheathing her sword, met his hazel eyes with a determined gaze of her own. ‘So be it.’

‘So be it.’ Talemir’s wings flared at his back, onyx ribbons of power multiplying around them, bleeding across the golden rays of dawn. ‘It’s time to take a walk on the dark side.’

Thea watched as obsidian swallowed the world around her, the light growing fainter, the gust of wind from his beating wings coaxing her forward, her storm magic answering in kind. In the near distance, the crack of thunder echoed across the midrealms as a bolt of lightning split the world in two.

For all the uncertainty and danger that lay ahead, Thea knew three things.

First: that she loved Wilder Hawthorne with every fibre of her being.

Second: she would do whatever it took to get him back.

And third…

No one, neither man nor monster, was going to stop her.

‘I am the storm,’she vowed.

And so, freshly forged with blood and steel, Warsword Althea Embervale, the Shadow of Death, stepped into the darkness to rescue her love.