Page 50 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure (The Children Of The Gods #98)

Despite the howling winds, there was an unnatural stillness about. The trees swayed in the wind, but apart from that, nothing moved. Everything around me seemed to be holding its collective breath. Even the sheep had gone quiet, and Chicha's whimpers had ceased.

The small hairs on the back of my neck tingled as dread spread through my veins. Something was definitely wrong, and I had to decide whether to backtrack into my house and lock the door or keep going.

Glancing at the nearest watchtower, I hoped to see the night guard's silhouette against the aurora-lit sky, but deep down, I already knew that the tower would be empty even before my gaze confirmed it.

I should have panicked. I should have run back into the house and barricaded the door.

Instead, a sense of numbness enveloped me.

I was in denial, trying to convince myself that this couldn't be happening tonight of all nights, but at the same time I was certain that it was indeed happening and that I probably wouldn't make it out alive.

"Maybe the guard went down to relieve himself," I muttered, in another effort to convince myself that everything was alright, but the words felt hollow even as I spoke them.

The guards never left their posts until their replacement arrived. If they had to, they did their business in a bucket.

The guard was most likely dead, and it was up to me to sound the alarm, provided that I made it to the tower before they got me.

Without making a conscious decision to move, I was already running, crouched and silent, with the rifle slung across my body. It took me mere moments to traverse the short distance between my home and the closest watchtower, but it felt like so much longer.

As I hurried up the ladder, my sweaty hands slid over the smooth wooden rungs that were worn by years of use.

Climbing, I still tried to convince myself that I was overreacting and that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the guard's absence, but it was just self-talk to boost my floundering courage and keep me going.

One more rung and I would be at eye level with the platform, but my foot hovered in the air, refusing to move.

I drew in a breath, hoping to steady my nerves—but the sharp, coppery scent that filled my lungs only served to confirm my fears.

Even then, knowing what I would find, I wasn't prepared for the scene that greeted me when I finally forced myself to climb up that step. The guard lay face down in a spreading pool of blood, his throat cut, his rifle lying just beyond his outstretched hand.

Somtan . I recognized him by the plaid shirt I had seen him wearing so many times before.

I stood paralyzed, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes were seeing.

Remembering him carrying me on his shoulders during the harvest festival when I was little, I couldn't accept that I would never see his cheerful smile again or that his four young children would have to grow up without a father.

His seven nieces and nephews would never get to ride on their uncle's broad shoulders again, and his elderly parents would now face their final years without their son.

The world tilted sideways, and bitter acid rose in my throat as my body finally reacted to the horror before me. I doubled over, ready to empty the contents of my stomach.

Except, I didn't.

Somehow, training kicked in, and I forced the bile down and tore my eyes away from the still-growing pool of blood.

There was no time for shock or grief. The village was under attack, and if I didn't move fast, things would quickly get much worse.

The Shedun must have sent a forward stealth team to silently eliminate the guards, and their main force would soon follow to violate, torture, and slaughter the rest of us.

We had minutes, at most.

My hands shook violently as I grabbed the bullhorn, and it took me two tries to position my finger over the button and sound the alarm. It blared across the sleeping village, its harsh sound shattering the silence and the false sense of calm, urgently rousing everyone.

Lights began to flicker in the windows, and in mere moments, doors flew open as my neighbors emerged with rifles clutched in their hands.

At the sound of heavy footsteps on the ladder, I turned with my rifle trained on the intruder, but it was just old Ednis climbing onto the platform. The grizzled veteran took in the scene with one glance, then knelt beside Somtan's body.

"He's gone," I said, my voice sounding strangely calm to my own ears, like it wasn't I who was speaking but some alternative version of me.

Ednis checked anyway, his weathered fingers seeking a pulse that we both knew wouldn't be there. When he straightened, his face was grim.

"Get yourself home, Kailin," he said gruffly. "Hide in the cellar and bar the door from the inside. Don't open it. Not even if someone you know is telling you that it's okay to come out."

The Shedun were known to hold a knife to a child's throat, forcing its desperate parents to betray their neighbors. But they were also known to set fire to homes, so hiding in a cellar was not such a good strategy either.

My fingers tightened around my rifle. "I'm staying here." I was surprised by the steel in my voice. "I know how to use this, and I have two full boxes of ammunition in my pocket. I can help."

"Kailin—"

"I'm staying, Ednis." My hands were still shaking, and I had to grip my rifle even tighter. "I feel safer here with you, fighting, than hiding and cowering."

Ednis studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Don't let yourself get killed, girl. Your parents will never forgive me if you die on my watch. Stay close to me and do as I say, understood? No stupid heroics."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir."

I scanned the darkness beyond the village boundaries, but with the auroras casting ever-shifting shadows across the mountainside, it was difficult to distinguish movement from tricks of the light.

Somewhere out there, the Shedun were gathering, preparing to attack, and soon they would emerge from the shadows like a pack of demons, ready to devour every living soul in their path.

Was it too much to hope that they had abandoned their plans after I sounded the alarm?

I clung to the sliver of hope even though I knew we wouldn't be that lucky.

All four watchmen had failed to sound the alarm, forcing me to conclude that they’d been killed, so luck wasn't a word I should use, and yet I was immensely relieved and grateful that Dylon and my parents were safe, away in Skywatcher's Point.

"They're coming," Ednis whispered beside me.

I raised my rifle, sighting along its barrel into the aurora-lit landscape.

The night stretched on, tense and terrible in its stillness, save for the howling winds that only added to the dread. None of the animals bleated, mooed, or neighed, and I wondered why they were so quiet. Did they sense death's approach and keep silent to escape its notice?

The Shedun came like shadows made flesh, materializing from the darkness like the demons they were.

Covered in black from head to toe, their faces painted with black tar, they seemed to absorb what little light reached them.

The only splash of color on them was the red symbol of Elusitor stamped on their foreheads.

They moved with an unnatural speed that made my skin crawl.

Rumors claimed that they used dark magic, fueling it with the blood and suffering of their victims, but I didn't believe in magic.

I believed in medicines, and there were herbs that could enhance performance for a short period of time.

The same substances also ravaged the mind, unleashing a savage madness that perfectly explained the Shedun's infamous brutality.

It wasn't sorcery that had created these monsters.

They were manufactured by a warped ideology, twisted, evil faith, and science.

"Steady," Ednis murmured beside me. "Wait for my signal."

I forced myself to breathe slowly, trying to still my trembling, sweaty hands. My rifle felt impossibly heavy as I tracked the approaching figures through its sight.

Could I do this?

Could I aim and shoot to kill someone when I had never shot a living thing before?

This wasn't like the practice range. This was real, but I had told Ednis that I could help, and by Elu, I would.

The first shot came from the western tower—a crack that whipped through the unnatural silence. A Shedun dropped, but the others didn't even break stride. They didn't mind losing their own because they glorified death, and life meant nothing to them.

"Now!" Ednis said.

I squeezed the trigger without thinking, the rifle's recoil slamming into my shoulder. My target stumbled but kept coming. I'd hit him, but not well enough. I had to keep shooting. Gritting my teeth, I took aim again.

The night erupted into chaos. Gunfire echoed off the mountainsides as our village defenders engaged the attackers. The Shedun returned fire, their weapons making odd whistling sounds.

Before long, I barely noticed the rifle's recoil and the violent clap of detonation with each bullet fired. I became one with the weapon, a machine without feelings. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, but my breathing became steady, measured, and my aim improved.

I was defending my people—nothing else existed beyond that singular purpose. Later, I would have to confront this cold, empty space inside me, this strange detachment that had settled over my mind. But for now, that void was a gift I couldn't afford to question.

"Down!" Ednis yanked me to the floor of the watchtower as bullets splintered the wood where I'd been standing. "Did they teach you nothing in the Youth Training Camp, girl?"

The void shattered, the clarity was gone, and terror flooded back along with the raw horror of what I'd seen, what I'd done, and what I still had to do.

"Sorry," I murmured, trying to control the shaking of my hands and slow down the frantic beat of my heart.