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Eiden

Ihave never met this form before—my battle stag—always being either human or stag. I know that Seven has this form, as does Nox. My stag tells me he has been waiting on me to accept us, to allow us to be one, as we were always meant to be.

I can hear her steady heartbeat, although it is a little slower than normal. I can smell her blood, too, and taste it in the air.

My step toward her is curtailed when voices and footsteps come from the corridor behind me.

A threat.

Her words, softly spoken, find purchase in my mind.

Eliminate the threat.

Then get Fawn to safety.

I bound out into the corridor and charge the fools who dare to come at me.

The two men at the front don’t even have crossbows but a sword and a club. The one behind has a net, which could prove bothersome if let him get close.

So I won’t.

Roaring a battle cry, I slam into them, sending all three men bowling over. I bay as I rip them to pieces, impossibly strong. My cry is the cry of a nightmare.

The nightmare is me.

More come.

I kill them until no more dare to approach.

There are monsters of all kinds here—survival of the fittest reigns. I have marked myself as one of the worst. None shall interfere, not unless they want to die.

I turn and lope back to the cell, where I come to an abrupt halt.

The door is cocked against one side where I tossed it. Bodies litter the floor, twisted in their death, their blood painting the walls and floor.

I barely spare them a glance.

There, slumped against the wall, blood smothering her small, naked form, is my Fawn.

Seven

There is no mistaking the magnitude of the task we must undertake. Each of us realizes the impossibility of what we do, the likelihood of failure, and the consequences if we do.

But I am not an ordinary stag; I am Master Stag. This is not the first time the residents of Wormwood have risen up. I doubt it will be the last. Inside me is knowledge of my forefathers and the God of nature himself, Cernunnos.

I have never ventured into that part of the city—never had reason to. It is a scourge upon our lives, and it is one that neither I nor any of my predecessors could break.

“How are we going to do this?” Wolf asks, a grim line to his lips.

Before I can answer, a captain barges into the room. “We have riots in Wormwood. Fires are visible over the wall. Reports of pitched battles in the streets.”

“Eiden,” Nox says, a dark smirk on his lips. “I’d say his stag has come out to play with vengeance on his mind.”

“Fawn?” Wolf demands.

“He will not fucking hurt her,” Nox snarls. “It is one thing for him to turn on another stag who is getting all up in his face, as I do when he turns feral, but another to presume he would hurt his mate.”

My gut tightens despite Nox’s unwavering belief. Eiden’s feral side is something to behold, and while I don’t believe he would hurt Fawn either, he is bloodthirsty and crazed—he is definitely not rational of mind.