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Cold mountain wind caressed Nyrielle’s dark feathers as she soared through the night sky, racing away from her army and her lover in the hopes of confronting her former mentor as far from the people she cared about as possible.

A year ago, she might have acted differently. She might have let him come to her, arrogantly challenging him to prove that she was no longer the young girl who sat at his feet to learn the mysteries of Blood Sorcery.

A few months ago, she might have attacked Ritchel’s ice tomb directly, snatching Ashlynn out of harm’s way before launching a combined assault on the Frost Walkers, ensuring that they understood their place and never dared to challenge the Vale of Mists again.

Now, too much had changed for her to take either approach.

Shubnalu’s moves against her among the Eldritch nations ruled by vampires had made it abundantly clear that she could no longer treat her former teacher as an ally, much less as a friend.

There had been a time when each of the True Vampires had attempted to court her.

On one occasion, they even joked about dueling each other for the right to seize her, but those jokes had ended when she bathed herself in the blood of the arena and took the Vale of Mists back from the Lothian butchers by force.

The jokes had ended, but Nyrielle couldn’t help but feel that at least one of them hadn’t given up on his desires to possess the only woman among their number.

As the oldest among the True Vampires, very little could move his heart, and Nyrielle didn’t think for a moment that the ancient vampire felt anything approaching love for her.

Rather, at some point, he’d resolved to possess her, and that thwarted resolution had turned into obsession.

Exposing Ashlynn to the twisted obsessions of the oldest living being among the Eldritch was far too dangerous, but unlike months ago, Nyrielle could no longer simply snatch Ashlynn and flee.

Months ago, her heart had only just begun to reawaken.

She had always been deeply committed to the people of the Vale of Mists and those she swore to protect,t but now, beyond simple commitment, she cared about many more of them in a way that was impossible for her even a year ago.

Nyrielle couldn’t bear the thought of losing people like Zedya, who was just beginning to explore her own newfound feelings for young Lennart, or her Uncle Tausau, who had just begun to feel again.

Even Ignatious, her wayward, estranged progeny, had found a small but growing place in her heart as he tried to find a place in the nation she’d built.

For the first time since the night she fled the Holy Flames that consumed the Vale of Mists along with her parent’s lives, it wasn’t hatred or grief that gripped her heart and drove her to fly faster and faster toward her destination, but fear of losing the ones who had come to mean so much to her.

And so, rather than risk any of them in a confrontation with her former teacher, she sought to head him off at the place she was certain he was waiting.

As Nyrielle arrived at the frozen lake where Ashlynn had once fought against Tuscan hunters, darkness swirled around her, twisting into the shape of a powerful headsman’s ax as she dove toward the frozen surface of the lake.

A single strike of the oversized blade shattered the foot thick ice like glass, sending broken chunks tumbling into the air along with a fountain of the coldest water in the world as Nyrielle plunged beneath the surface, returning to the under water entrance to the Ancestral Cave where Hauke and Ashlynn had confronted the abomination formed of Shubnalu’s blood sorcery.

"Light, gather, to my hand," Nyrielle whispered as she entered the perfect darkness of the sealed cave. Sapphire blue flames gathered on her outstretched hand, casting their flickering light across the crude, hand-carved walls of the Ancestral Cave as she looked for any sign of her former mentor.

Water splashed and dripped from her dress as she walked deeper into the darkness, but she didn’t bother to dry herself. The cold might bother Ashlynn, but Nyrielle had long ago grown numb to such things.

Through her bond with her lover, she could feel an intense cold along with occasional sharp bursts of pain, making it clear that whatever had forced Hauke to betray them, he wasn’t holding back in his attempts to harm Ashlynn.

But Nyrielle knew Ashlynn wasn’t so weak and feeble now to be threatened by anything the young Frost Walker could do to her.

"Blood Seeker. Shubnalu," Nyrielle said, flicking her hand to make a small cut with a sharpened nail and spilling three drops of blood.

Before her blood could touch the ground, each one hovered in the air, transforming until they took on the shape of small, blood-drinking insects.

"If there is a trace of my former teacher here," she commanded. "Find him."

The blood-insects hovered before her for a moment as Nyrielle let herself remember the unique scent of Shubnalu’s blood and being.

No matter where the ancient vampire went, he carried with him the scent of fallen, decomposing trees and the rich loam of the Black Wood that he had ruled for close to a thousand years.

The scent was so strongly tied to her memories of him that it was easy to pass it along to the insects as they searched through the tunnels of the ancestral cave.

It didn’t take long for one of them to return to her, hovering eagerly before darting off down a side passage near the chamber where she’d fought the abomination of fused Blood Golems.

"So he really is here," Nyrielle said, gripping her shadowy ax tightly as she followed the insect. She didn’t have to go far before she arrived at a narrow doorway cut into the stone cave and blocked by a giant stone slab.

The tiny insect flew directly toward a small gap between the stone slab and the doorway, vanishing into whatever space lay beyond the barrier.

"That doesn’t make any sense," Nyrielle said, looking at the floor around the stone slab. There were no footprints leading to this place, and even if Shubnalu had flown here, he would have needed to move the slab aside to enter the room within. "Unless there’s another entrance?" Nyrielle mused.

Suddenly, the echo of Ashlynn’s heartbeat within her chest grew much, much faster, and the spikes of pain that colored their bond grew sharper and more intense.

Had Lord Ritchel joined his son in attempting to subdue Ashlynn?

Or was something else happening to turn the tide in her fight against the young lord?

Nyrielle had no way of knowing, but one thing was clear.

Whatever game Shubnalu was playing, he had prepared layers of traps to use against Ashlynn and her progeny.

If Nyrielle couldn’t find a way to force her teacher to call off his attack, then whatever else he had in store for Ashlynn and her army might prove to be more than they could handle without her help.

She was running out of time...