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C asimir jolted awake inside his tent, his fingers instinctively wrapping around the hilt of his sword.

Something ominous; something terrible had happened.

It was like the whole world had awoken and cracked open, breathing a great sigh of surprise as it trembled.

He pushed the flaps of his tent aside and emerged, looking for his fellow warriors.

“Did you feel that?” he asked Quinn, already outside.

“Yes,” she whispered, upturned brown eyes wide with trepidation. “Something’s coming.” Her long black hair swished along her back, tied back in intricate braids and her olive skin glistened in the morning sun, sweat already forming along her brow.

A massive black bear ambled up to him and huffed. His shoulders reached the height of Casimir’s chest and he towered over everyone when standing on his hind legs.

Something’s not right, the bear’s low voice said telepathically.

“I know,” he answered back.

Their animal companions were on edge. Quinn’s black panther was pacing along the tree line as if searching for the source of their unease .

Another warrior emerged from his own tent as his large silver wolf growled from the edge of camp, both prepared for a fight. His blonde hair was bright in the sunlight. Tying back his long locks, revealing pointed ears, he asked, “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know, Raine,” he said. “Where’s Jorrar?”

“Probably out for his usual morning stroll.” Raine shrugged. “He must stretch his old legs lest he get stiff in the mornings,” he added, winking at Quinn.

Quinn rolled her eyes and looked around for their fourth companion. They were camped in a small clearing among towering trees of white bark and moss green leaves. Small yellow flowers grew among the grass like little drops of sun, sparkling over an emerald sea.

Their tents had carefully been placed in the clearing, ensuring little damage was done to the plants thriving among the forest; respect for the native flora vital to their way of life.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting a subtle light around their makeshift homes.

The cry of an animal sounded in the distance as Casimir searched for Jorrar.

A low voice called from the dense trees. “Casimir!”

The three fae warriors turned in his direction as their fourth companion with ebony skin and short hair peppered with gray emerged from the forest, out of breath. He rubbed the back of his neck, silver eyes wide with concern as he stopped in front of them.

“Well, out with it,” said Quinn, impatiently.

“They’re back,” he said in between breaths. “I can feel them.”

Casimir’s golden eyes widened as he took in what his friend was saying, knowing exactly who Jorrar was referring to.

“Who?” asked Raine.

“Deidamia and Andras,” he answered.

Quinn shook her head in disbelief. “No. ”

“Fuck,” said Raine as he started to pace.

After nearly one hundred years, they were back.

Though Casimir had fought plenty of daemon soldiers throughout the years, their leaders were different.

Almost undefeatable. Rogue groups of soldiers were nothing compared to what they would face now their queen had returned.

Jorrar was the only one of them old enough to remember the old wars—Casimir had been just a child—and now their worst fears had come to fruition.

He must inform his king.

“How is that possible?” Quinn asked.

Jorrar shook his head. “I can’t say for certain. But this is how it felt before.”

“Looks like our scouting mission got a lot more complicated,” Quinn grumbled, starting to take her tent down.

Casimir nodded to Jorrar. “Send word to the king.”

Jorrar whistled as he turned to the woods.

A moment later a gray and black marbled owl appeared, swooping down to land on his arm.

He turned to the bird. “Send a message to Thorne. Inform him what’s happened and that we will wait for his instructions.

” Seconds later, the owl hooted and flew off toward the towering mountains in the distance.

The rest of their companions had disappeared as well, on their own missions to gather intelligence; one of their many uses.

They had been in the Greywood Forest for a couple of months now, using this small camp as their base.

Though Deidamia had been gone for decades, parts of her army remained.

They didn’t try to conquer completely without her, but caused plenty of trouble.

Casimir and his three best warriors had been sent by their king to take care of rogue soldiers who were wreaking havoc on some of the smaller villages at the outskirts of their kingdom.

“How far are we from Oakshire?” asked Casimir .

“About two days’ walk,” answered Raine. “Why? Are you craving an ale, general? Maybe a romp in the sheets with a pretty bar maiden? You’d better bathe first. You stink.”

Casimir raised his eyebrows at his closest friend. “There will be no romping this time. We need better rest, some real food and a place to wait for Thorne’s instructions. Besides, we need to replenish our supplies.”

“Real food? You dislike my cooking?” Jorrar scoffed at Casimir as he attached their supplies to their horse, a gray mare with a white patch on her chest named Snowheart.

“Nobody likes your cooking, old man,” Quinn jabbed as she strapped on her many daggers.

Jorrar furrowed his brow.

Raine poured water over the smoldering embers of their fire. “It reminds me of the smell of Cas’ feet when he takes his boots off after we’ve been traveling for weeks.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jorrar grumbled at Casimir who was adjusting the hood of his forest green cloak.

Casimir gave Jorrar a blank look. “It’s tolerable.”

Jorrar huffed and finished packing their gear.

“Time to go,” he announced. “We must be swift.”

Casimir led his group through the woods, sun high in the sky as it beat down on them.

His hand absently traced the scar that started just above his jaw line and stretched down his neck, ending at his collarbone.

Long lost memories usually kept at bay now churned near the surface as he worried about what the daemon queen and her consort had in store for Eorhan. For his kingdom.

For his home.