Page 47

Everly

W e appeared just outside the keep, and already, blood stained the snow. Through my blurry vision, I could make out the ruined stables. Splintered wood and fallen lamp posts littered the grounds as if a raging windstorm had swept through.

I blinked, my vision clearing a little more, only to register the broken remains of bodies scattered among the ruins.

No. No. No . Were we too late? Where were the monsters now? Where was Wynnie?

The sounds reached me next, piercing my eardrums and sending fresh waves of icy dread through my veins.

Horrified screams and otherworldly shrieks echoed through the cracked door and fractured windows of the estate. My stomach sank even further. I took a step forward, overtaken by a visceral need to find my sister, but Draven squeezed my hand.

“Remember,” he said, his tone low with warning. “You swore to stay by my side.”

His voice helped ground me, even as every part of me rebelled now that I was here. I took a deep breath, giving him a reluctant nod.

He stepped forward, dropping my hand as he led me to the front door. Each footfall was quieter than the last, as if he were carved from nothing but silence and shadows.

His palm glowed with a pale blue light. It twisted and flared, and the temperature around us dropped as it began to take shape in his palm.

A pommel and grip appeared first, followed by the deadliest-looking blade I’d ever seen, all frosted diamonds and ancient mana. It gleamed under the bright, midday sun, as he twisted and honed it with each step closer to the keep.

Fear twisted my insides. All I could think about was my sister. And whether or not one of those screams belonged to her. Whether or not the next one would be her last.

I wrenched my dagger from my thigh, adjusting my grip until I had the best hold on it.

Every inch of me buzzed with dread as we drew closer to the sounds. The front door stood slightly ajar. Snow had blown inside in lazy drifts, trailing footprints—some fae, others wrong. Too wide. Too deep, and clawed.

Draven held out a hand, and I stopped behind him as he eased the door open.

It was the smell that hit first.

Thick, warm decay and sulfur. Like milk that had soured, or corpses left too long in the sun. I suppressed a gag as we moved forward, trying to breathe through my mouth, but hating the taste of the air on my tongue.

“Tharnoks,” Draven whispered as we stepped over the threshold. “They reek of death and rot.”

I nodded.

The door stopped abruptly, slamming against a barrier I couldn’t see. I stretched to look around it as Draven whispered a curse.

A body. Torn and bloody, and covered in a thick, dark sludge that looked more like tar than blood. My stomach lurched, but I swallowed back the bile. I knew inherently this wouldn’t be the worst thing I saw today.

Another scream rent through the air, followed by the scraping of a chair and a man’s voice shouting the word no , over and over.

Then everything went quiet, like the house was listening, waiting.

The entry hall was unrecognizable. The furniture was shattered. Paintings torn from the walls. Blood sprayed in sharp arcs across the marble. And limbs were strewn between ruined furniture and torn silk.

My eyes burned, and my breath hitched.

Wynnie .

I had to find her. Before it was too late.

It couldn’t be too late already. That was a reality I wouldn’t accept.

Another scream split the air before I could process the carnage laid out before me. The sound came from deeper inside the house, sharp and guttural in a way that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.

A door burst open down the hall, and a maid came sprinting toward us. Her eyes were wide with terror.

“Help—” she screamed, her mouth open in a sob, just as something yanked her back mid-stride.

She flew off her feet, disappearing into the shadows with a sickening crack.

Draven moved instantly, thrusting a hand forward to send frost spiraling through the air. Ice formed and stretched out like fingers, catching her midair and wrenching her from the darkness.

A furious shriek sounded from the hall as the female collapsed at our feet.

She was sobbing, clothes torn and bloodied, but she was still alive, which gave me hope for my sister, too.

“It’s all right. We’re here to help,” I said, though the words tasted like a lie.

I wasn’t sure I could help anyone. My dagger felt too light in my hand, and my bones screamed at me to tap into the power that was trapped beneath my skin.

The unearthly wails grew louder, and a sound like crashing thunder boomed in the hall. Wood splintered and glass shattered as a creature tore through the hall, coming back to claim his prey.

“Stay back,” Draven ordered.

The subtle sound of his icy mana rang out, followed by the cracking of bones and the cries of a monster older than time. He dragged the thing forward, bringing its full horrifying form into view.

Not a Tharnok, but a Wretch.

Panic raced through my veins, chased by the flames of desperation.

I knelt down at the maid’s side, my voice an urgent whisper.

“Where is she? Where is Wyn—Noerwyn?” I corrected.

She shook her head, her eyes unable to focus as they flitted back and forth between some unseen horrors still playing out in her mind.

I grabbed her face, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“I need you to tell me now. Where. Is. My. Sister?” I bit out the question, following the movement of her eyes to make her focus. “And then I can get you out of here. Please.”

My voice was louder this time. Firmer. The maid’s attention snapped to mine, and tears streamed down her face as she pointed over my shoulder to the master suite on the second floor.

I turned back to her, but her eyes were wider, her face twisted in a horrified expression. She let out a blood-curdling scream.

And then that exact scream echoed behind me, in her voice, as if it were mocking us somehow.

I froze.

Crunch.

Another Wretch erupted from the shadows, its elongated form twisting and jerking as it focused its attention on us. It was a nightmare made of shadow and scales. Thick tar dripped from its gaping mouth between sharp black teeth the size of saucers.

It moved, charging straight for us. Some long buried instinct had me throwing myself over the maid and rolling her out of the way just as the Wretch crashed into the sofa we had just been kneeling by.

The furniture slid across the floor, colliding with a table near the window.

It scrambled back to its feet, its massive form now standing between us and Draven. The king adjusted to fight both frostbeasts at the same time, using his ice-sword and an array of mana to hit them again and again.

Watching him move was incredible; he was the monster that other monsters should fear. The one that haunted their nightmares. But there were two of them…

My blood turned cold with icy dread, and I prayed to the Shard Mother with more desperation and conviction than I ever had before that she would get us out of this.

My heart crashed against my ribs and I yelled at the maid to stand up. To take my hand, and run. We needed to get Wynnie, then get the hells out of here. But the female didn’t move. Wouldn’t? Couldn’t?

I yelled at her again. Shards damn it, it would be so much easier if I knew her name.

The sound of her scream rang out again, but it was coming from the monster.

I shouted my husband’s name, and he didn’t hesitate. Another blast of mana, more powerful than before, roared past me and hit the beast, but not before the Wretch found its target.

Ice exploded outward, shredding through bone and sinew, ripping through one of its arms. But it was too late. I looked away from her body, unable to stomach the ruin, and scrambled backward to put some more space between me and the monster.

With bloodsoaked hands, I adjusted my grip on my dagger once again, just as the Wretch snapped its attention toward Draven.

The maid’s head fell from its mouth as it let out another scream and tore across the room to get to him. Its claws scraped through the floors, leaving bloody grooves in the wood.

My chest was tight, too tight, my breaths coming impossibly fast.

Then I heard them—more monsters. Shrieks, growls, the thunder of claws on stone. Shadows shifting as more of the beasts slithered their way toward us, pouring from every broken window and splintered doorway.

Scrambling from the floor, I raced forward and leapt into the air, bringing my dagger down through the head of the Wretch. Violet sparks burst from the wound, catching on the tar-like drool and blood.

Flames licked at my hands as I wrenched the blade from its skin. The beast screamed and spun around, but Draven was faster.

A pulse of raw mana cracked through the hall like thunder, and the temperature dropped. Shards of ice spread out like jagged veins across the floor, racing toward the Wretch like a living, breathing thing.

The monster reared back, but it was too late.

Draven lifted one hand, his fingers splayed wide, and the frost answered him. A spire of glacier crystal erupted from the ground, spearing through the Wretch’s leg and pinning it in place. It shrieked, flailing, and that was when he moved.

He was a blur of motion, turning to frost and shadow before reappearing behind the creature with his sword raised high. The icy blade crackled with mana, blue and white light crawling down its center like frozen lightning.

With a snarl, he drove it down in a clean arc, cleaving through the Wretch’s spine, and for a heartbeat, the air itself seemed to freeze. As if time halted beneath the weight of his fury.

It didn’t last for long, not before the other Wretch lunged again. He had killed one, but there were more. More monsters tearing through the grounds, through the house to destroy us.

I could feel them, feel their twisted and diseased mana as if it were my own.

Another blast of icy air washed over me, along with the sound of suffering.

What have I done? What have I begged him to walk into?

Wave after wave of power, of his furious mana, swept through the room as he fought the Wretch and then the Tharnoks climbing in through the broken windows.

Draven was a force, a horrifying demonstration of a weapon made of blood and skin and bone.

“Stay with me, Everly,” he growled.

And I tried. I really did.

But chaos continued to shatter the distance between us, and somewhere in this house, was my sister.

One of the monsters barreled into his side, and another exploded through the ceiling. A chandelier crashed to the floor, and I was hurled by the impact of something I didn’t see.

I landed at the top of a shattered stairway. With a monster between me and my husband.

Before I could cry out, another one crept around the corner, but it hadn’t noticed me yet. I scrambled to my feet, bolting for the hallway before the beast caught sight of me. Each step burned, and panic swelled with every breath.

I had done my best to keep my vow, but I couldn’t count on Draven to save me when he was locked in a battle of his own, and I couldn’t wait any longer to find my sister.

A window shattered beside me, glass raining down like hailstones. A gust of ice and snow swept through the hall in a violent rush, but I kept running, my footsteps landing hard against the floorboards.

I rounded another corner, following the logical path that I could only pray led to the main suites. Then I could only pray she was there.

Movement caught my eye in the study to my left. I turned in time to see a servant leap from the upper balcony, a flash of terror on his face.

He chose the fall over what was behind him.

My hand flew to my mouth. I lunged, too late, nails slicing into my palms as my back seized and something inside me screamed. You could’ve saved him.

But there wasn’t time for remorse. A ruthless part of myself reminded me that I had come here for exactly one reason. If there was only one life I could save today, it would be hers. Even over mine.

Find her. Move .

Behind me, the air shifted. The acrid scent of death washed over me, drowning me in wave after wave of rancid decay and suffering.

I turned enough to watch its nostrils flare as it caught the scent of my blood. It turned with that jerking, unnatural motion, its spined back arching, claws scraping deep grooves into the floor.

A roar came from downstairs. Draven’s voice was raw and unhinged just before an unrelenting storm howled through the manor. The temperature dropped instantly. Wind screamed down the corridor, snow whipping through the air in sheets so thick I could barely see.

I braced myself against the sleet and the onslaught of my hair whipping against my skin like daggers. The Tharnok, however, was undeterred. It loomed through the blizzard, creeping closer, its glowing eyes locked on mine.

It lunged.

Its claws tore across my arm, and I screamed out in pain. Fire raced through my nerves as I fell, hitting the solid floor hard enough to disorient myself. The sound of my dagger clattering to the floor was the worst part of all.

The beast scrambled forward, slipping on ice and blood.

My ears rang as I scrambled toward my blade. My trembling fingers scraped at the handle, and it slipped once, twice. Then I found purchase, gripping it tightly before turning back to the Tharnok.

It lunged again, jaws snapping for my throat. I ducked, just in time to drive the dagger up beneath its ribs.

It shrieked. The sound was too loud, too much. I braced my injured arm against the mottled fur on its chest, ripping the dagger free and stabbing again, this time lower, in its gut.

Momentum carried it forward, and the Tharnok fell on top of me, crushing the breath from my lungs. My chest burned as I gasped and strained for breaths that wouldn’t come.

The Tharnok’s jaws stretched wide, and it snapped its teeth again and again. I kicked and clawed at its eyes, slicing furiously with my dagger.

Blood sprayed. My arm ached. My hands were slick, slipping on fur and bone and frost, but I couldn’t stop.

The beast writhed. And I kept stabbing—sobbing, snarling, clawing at it like an animal until it finally stopped moving.

My breaths were too shallow and too raw.

I scrambled out from beneath the monster, soaked in blood that wasn’t entirely mine, and drowning in enough new material to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. My hands slipped across the blood-soaked floor, my nails clawing at the polished wood as I dragged myself upright.

“Wynnie,” I wheezed. “Wynnie!”

My voice cracked, but I forced my legs to move. I was shaking, and unsteady, and solely driven by adrenaline and the echoing sound of my sister’s name in my head like a prayer.

I reached the bedroom door and grasped the handle, but my fingers slid uselessly over it—slick with blood, both my own and the Tharnok’s. I tried again, sobbing now, and finally managed to wrench it open.

To find that room, too, was bathed in blood.