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There was little movement or noise, only the distant moans of the injured still clinging to life in the medic tent.

And the cry of a hawk overhead.

The roiling in Thea’s stomach only intensified at the sight. Snatching a bow and a quiver of arrows from a nearby supply cart, she moved through the rest of the camp like a shadow, following the hawk.

It led her west of the castle, across the blood-stained fields, where crows and scavengers were already feasting on the dead who hadn’t yet been gathered for the pyres. It smelt like death and despair, a far cry from the glory she had once imagined.

She saw no one as she crossed the open land, keeping her gaze trained on the bird of prey as it dipped and soared above. No one stopped her; no guards, no scouts.

Despite the ache of her battle-worn body, it was her chest that felt the heaviest. For she knew in her bones this was the same hawk that had brought Wilder messages from Naarva, where the Veil was supposedly the weakest. It was also the same hawk that had watched as Anya, the Daughter of Darkness, held Wren captive in her onyx binds.

A sour taste filled Thea’s mouth as she spotted the western treeline, a dull throb of pain forming at the back of her throat.

She slowed her approach, her heart rate spiking.

For at the foot of the trees, she could see a handful of midrealms soldiers – all unconscious, tied to the thick trunks, gagged.

Longing for the weight of Wilder’s Naarvian steel in her hands, Thea nocked an arrow to her bow and crept towards the treeline. When she reached the nearest warrior, she saw a Guardian totem on his arm and prayed he’d know who she was. Searching the forest floor, she snatched up the weed she was looking for and brought it under the man’s nose, waving it so the bitter aroma would waft from its leaves.Peppered broadleaf – another neat trick all those years of alchemy had taught her.

At her ministrations, the man jolted and she had to hold him down with all her strength, grateful that at least for this initial meeting, he was sufficiently gagged. But as soon as the panic settled and he noted the Guardian totem on her own arm, as well as the single finger she raised to her lips, he stilled.

Thea unsheathed her dagger and cut the ropes that bound him to the tree. As soon as his hands were free they flew to the gag, and he tore the scrap of material from his mouth with a grimace of disgust.

‘What happened here?’ she whispered, peering into the woods behind him, unable to see through the densely packed trees.

‘Don’t know exactly,’ he murmured. ‘We were assigned to guard the prisoners. I was stationed out here, with half of them.’ He motioned to the other Guardians bound to the trees. ‘I don’t remember how I wound up here, like this.’

‘What prisoners?’ Thea asked.

‘The monsters.’

‘Where?’

‘Just inside the forest there.’

Thea’s skin was crawling. She turned back to the warrior. ‘I need you to free one of them to help the rest, while you run to the castle. And I mean run. Bring the Warswords and commanders.’

‘What will you do?’ he asked, glancing from her to the shadowy woods beyond.

‘Worry about yourself,’ was all she said before she slipped into the forest.

She didn’t have to go far. Only a few yards into the wooded area, she saw it.

A steel cage.

Only it didn’t contain prisoners, monsters or otherwise. Not anymore.

A ragged gasp escaped her as she spotted dozens of half-wraiths dotted around the trees, newly freed from captivity. They were bruised and bloodied, some using each other as support to stand. But they were no longer contained within the bars of the cage. They had escaped.

Thea’s gaze darted back to the steel box, where the door hung ajar.

They hadn’t escaped.

Someone had freed them.

Thea’s heart hammered, her fingers flexing around her bow as she scanned the scene before her. And then her heart stopped.

Standing together at the heart of it all were Anya, the Daughter of Darkness; the winged man Cal had shot…