The trip went well for the first week and the party reached the border of the duchy without any issues. We stopped at the ruin of a watchtower to spend the night.

  The camp was a picture of practiced military precision. Under the shadow of the crumbling watchtower, the Iron Guard moved with the rhythmic efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Tents were pitched in a tight circle, horses were tethered and rubbed down, and the scent of salt pork began to drift from the central fire.

  By all accounts, it was a perfect evening. But for me, the world felt tilted.

  Every sound—the ring of a whetstone against steel, the snap of a dry log in the hearth—hit me with a sickening jolt of familiarity. My heart was thundering against my ribs, trapped in a cycle of panic I couldn’t explain. I felt as though I were walking through a house I had lived in for a century, yet I couldn’t remember opening the door.

  “Kaelen, you’re hovering.” Sir Joric said, not looking up from his boots as he polished the leather. “You’ve checked the perimeter four times. Even the squirrels are scared of us by now. Sit. Eat.”

  “Something is… off,” I muttered. My hand went to my throat. The skin was smooth, but I could swear I felt the phantom pressure of something cold and sharp.

  “It’s the ruins,” Joric shrugged. “Old stone always feels heavy. Go check on the Lady. Maybe if you see she’s tucked in safe, you’ll stop acting like we’re in the middle of a siege.”

  I nodded, the suggestion grounding me. I needed to see her. I needed to confirm that the person at the center of this mission was secure.

  I walked toward the largest tent, the one marked with the Astrea seal. The silk flaps fluttered in the rising wind. “My Lady?” I called out, keeping my voice low. “It is Captain Kaelen. I’ve come to check the evening’s security.”

  Silence.

  A cold dread, sharper than the northern wind, pierced my chest. I didn’t wait for permission. I pushed the flap aside.

  The tent was empty.

  The bedding was untouched, the furs smoothed over as if they had never been used. A single candle flickered on a small travel trunk, its flame dancing wildly in the draft I had created. She hadn’t been kidnapped—there was no sign of a struggle, no overturned furniture. She had simply vanished into the dark.

  I turned and ran. I didn’t call for the men. If the Lady had slipped out, she had done so for a reason, and a panicked search party would only alert whatever was lingering in the woods.

  I tracked her by the faint disturbance in the frost. She wasn’t headed toward the road; she was moving deep into the treeline, toward the densest part of the forest. I found her a hundred yards out, struggling to lead a terrified mare through a thicket of thorns.

  “My Lady!” I hissed, lunging forward to grab the horse’s bridle.

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  Lady Elara flinched so violently she nearly fell. She turned, her face a mask of raw, jagged terror in the moonlight. She wasn’t wearing her heavy travel furs; she was in a light cloak, her breath coming in ragged, white plumes.

  “Kaelen! ” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Go back. Please. If you stay at the camp, maybe… maybe it won’t be as bad.”

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, my grip tightening on the leather reins. “You’re fleeing? Without an escort? In this terrain, you won’t last an hour!”

  “I have to!” she cried, her eyes darting to the canopy above us. “I’ve watched you die! I’ve watched all of you die! If I’m not there, they won’t attack the camp. They want me, Kael. They want the blood in my veins.”

  I stopped, my boots sinking into the deep snow. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to tell her she’d had a nightmare. But then I felt it—a sudden, sharp itch at the base of my skull. A memory of a blade that hadn’t touched me yet.

  “You’ve… had a vision?” I asked, my voice wavering. “A dream?”

  “It’s not a dream!” She grabbed my armored forearms, her small hands shaking with a strength born of pure terror. “This is the fourth time,Sir Kaelen! I’ve watched all of you die Three times!

  I looked at her, searching for the lie. But her eyes held an ancient, hollow exhaustion that no fifteen-year-old should possess.

  ‘‘ Young Lady, listen to me,” I said, my voice softening as the skepticism fought a losing battle with the cold reality of her fear.

  “Even if what you’re saying is true, you can’t go alone. We’ll back together. We’ll wake the Guard, and we’ll—”

  A sound cut me off.

  It wasn’t a roar. It wasn’t a growl. It was a high-pitched, melodic whistling, coming from the direction of our camp.

  Then, the first scream hit.

  It was Leo. I’d know that boy’s voice anywhere. It started as a shout of alarm and ended in a wet, bubbling gurgle that sent a jolt of ice through my marrow. Then came the sounds of steel on steel, followed by a chorus of shrieks that didn’t sound human.

  “It’s starting,” Elara whispered, her face ashen. “They’re here.”

  I spun around, drawing my longsword. The steel sang in the moonlight, but for the first time in my life, it felt useless. From the direction of the ruins, I saw the fire suddenly vanish—snuffed out as if a giant hand had been pressed down upon it.

  Figures began to emerge from the treeline. They moved with a sickening, liquid grace, blurring between the shadows. They weren’t using weapons. They were using claws that glinted like obsidian.

  “Kaelen!”

  A man burst through the brush, stumbling toward us. It was Sir Valen. His armor was slick with black ichor, his shield splintered. “Captain Kaelen! Monsters! They… they have killed Joric! They’re eating—”

  He stopped. His head tilted at an impossible angle. Behind him, a pale, multi-jointed shadow rose from his own shadow. With a single, casual movement, it drove a jagged limb through Valen’s chest.

  Valen didn’t even scream. He just looked at me, his eyes glazing over, as the thing behind him began to looked at me.

  “Behind me!” I roared, pushing Lady Elara toward a cluster of ancient oaks.

  The struggle was a blur of desperation. I swung my blade, cleaving through a limb that felt like wet leather. Another creature slammed into my shield, the force of it nearly shattering my arm. They were too fast.

  I looked back toward the camp. It was a graveyard. The silver-clad Iron Guard, the men I had trained with for a decade, were being dragged into the dark, their voices replaced by the mocking whistles of the demons.

  I was alone. Me and the girl.

  “Lady Elara! You have to go hide somewhere!! ” I ducked a swipe that took a chunk out of the oak tree behind me.

  She was huddled against the trunk, her hands over her ears.

  A creature holding the mangled head of Sir Joric stepped into the moonlight. It looked at me and smiled—a perfect, human smile that didn’t reach its pulsing black eyes.

  “Kael,” it whispered in creepy way . “Demons?! That far in human territory? ”

  I gritted my teeth, raising my sword for a final, hopeless charge. “Go to hell.”