The southern trail had become a nightmare.
Cold rain poured endlessly from the dark sky above, turning the narrow mountain path into a river of mud and slick stone.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
My boots sank deep into the soaked earth, and each time I pulled a foot free, it felt as though the mountain itself was trying to drag me back.
My entire body ached.
The fall from the cliff.
The freezing river.
The awakening of the Silver Crest.
Everything was catching up to me.
A sharp pulse flared beneath the fabric covering my right shoulder.
I sucked in a breath.
The mark burned again.
Not enough to make me cry out, but enough to remind me that it was there—alive beneath my skin.
Every few minutes another wave of heat spread from the silver crest through my chest and down my arm.
It felt wrong.
As though something inside me was changing.
Something I couldn’t understand.
Ahead of me, Vance moved through the forest with effortless ease.
The old hermit never seemed tired.
Never stumbled.
Never slowed down.
Rain slid from his gray cloak as he walked silently between the trees, one hand resting near the hilt of his blade.
For hours he hadn’t spoken a single word.
Normally I would have appreciated the silence.
Today it felt suffocating.
By midday my vision had started to blur.
Dark spots floated at the edges of my sight.
My ribs throbbed with every breath, and a cold sweat covered my skin despite the freezing air.
I took another step.
Then another.
My boot caught on a twisted tree root.
The world tilted violently.
A gasp escaped me as I stumbled forward.
Instinctively, both hands flew to my stomach.
Protect.
The thought appeared before I even realized it.
Protect them.
My balance returned at the last second, but my heart hammered wildly inside my chest.
Several yards ahead, Vance stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
His silver eyes landed on me.
Then they dropped.
Straight to my hands.
To where I was shielding my stomach.
Something unreadable flashed across his weathered face.
“You’re slowing down,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine.” The lie sounded weak even to my own ears.
Vance studied me for several seconds.
Rain dripped from his silver hair.
“You look like death.” “Thank you.
That’s very encouraging.” His expression didn’t change.
A frown slowly formed between his brows.
“The river should not have weakened you this much.” I looked away.
My pulse quickened.
“Maybe almost drowning is harder than it looks.” “Perhaps.” The old man didn’t sound convinced.
Not even slightly.
For a long moment he simply stared at me.
Watching.
Calculating.
As if trying to solve a puzzle.
Then his gaze drifted toward my stomach once more.
A strange tension settled over the trail.
My breath caught.
Did he know?
Could he somehow sense them?
The tiny lives growing inside me?
Fear curled coldly in my chest.
But eventually Vance looked away.
“Move,” he said.
“We need shelter before dark.” Relief flooded through me.
I followed him deeper into the forest.
The rain continued falling.
The wind howled through the trees.
And yet, after another hour of walking, a different scent suddenly reached me.
Copper.
Rot.
Wet fur.
My entire body went rigid.
Rogues.
Vance stopped instantly.
The transformation in him was immediate.
His relaxed posture vanished.
Every muscle tightened.
Every trace of weariness disappeared.
The harmless old hermit from the cave was gone.
Something far more dangerous stood in his place.
“Behind me.” The command cracked through the forest like a whip.
I obeyed without hesitation.
The bushes exploded.
A massive black wolf burst from the undergrowth.
Its yellow eyes burned with madness.
Foam dripped from its jaws.
Another emerged from behind a boulder.
Then two more.
Then three.
Within seconds the entire clearing was surrounded.
Ten.
Maybe twelve.
Wild rogues.
Their bodies were covered in scars.
Their fur hung in filthy clumps.
None of them looked fully sane.
Predators driven beyond reason.
The largest wolf stepped forward.
A monstrous gray beast nearly twice the size of the others.
A ragged scar crossed one eye.
Its torn ear twitched as it stared directly at us.
Then it growled.
The sound rolled through the clearing like distant thunder.
And charged.
The beast launched itself straight toward Vance’s throat.
Fast.
Far too fast.
I opened my mouth to warn him.
But Vance never moved.
He didn’t reach for his weapon.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t even take a step.
Instead, he calmly raised one hand.
Palm forward.
Everything changed.
A crushing pressure exploded through the clearing.
The air itself seemed to shatter.
BOOM.
The charging rogue hit an invisible wall.
A sickening crack echoed through the forest.
Bones snapped.
The enormous wolf twisted violently in midair before being hurled backward.
Its body slammed into a pine tree hard enough to splinter the trunk.
The rogue collapsed into the mud.
Motionless.
Dead.
Silence.
Every remaining wolf froze.
Even the rain seemed quieter.
My heart pounded.
What in the Moon Goddess’s name was that?
The rogues stared at Vance.
Not with hunger anymore.
With fear.
Real fear.
For the first time since I had met him, I began to understand why assassins trembled around this man.
Vance slowly lowered his hand.
His silver eyes glowed faintly beneath the storm-dark sky.
“Leave,” he said.
The single word carried terrifying authority.
Several rogues actually stepped backward.
But madness won.
One wolf snarled.
Another snapped its jaws.
Then the entire pack attacked at once.
The forest erupted into chaos.
And beneath my shirt, the Silver Crest suddenly burned hotter than ever before.