It took half a day for Edmund’s host to reach the forest.

  His army numbered no more than two hundred men, large enough to face the legion ahead, yet small enough to move through the dense woodland. A larger force would only slow them down. The men rested briefly. Armor was adjusted. Blades were whetted. Mages checked their satchels, ensuring the right crystals were close at hand.

  Edmund remained apart, his gaze fixed on the dark line of trees ahead when Tristan approached him from behind.

  “Highness,” Tristan greeted.

  Edmund bowed swiftly in response. They stood in silence for a moment before Tristan spoke again.

  “For someone so shy and quiet,” he said, “Serena is remarkably ferocious in battle. The way she threw herself in front of me, blasting the monsters almost blindly.”

  “She is,” Edmund agreed, his voice low. His thoughts drifted back to the Draemhyr, how she blasted it into a tree. The same Draemhyr they were about to face. Not long after, Conrad approached Edmund and Tristan.

  “The men are ready, Highness,” he said. “We only await your command to proceed.”

  Tristan gave Edmund a nod before moving to join the men gathering behind him. Edmund turned to face the host, battle-ready despite the horror waiting in the woods.

  “If anyone wishes to turn back,” Edmund said, “now is the time. I will not stop you.”

  No one moved.

  “Thank you,” Edmund said, bowing slightly. “All of you.”

  He turned back toward the forest, drew his sword, and raised it high.

  “We move into the forest!”

  The men divided into smaller groups and fanned out through the forest. Edmund marched alongside Tristan, Conrad, Matthew, and Gualter. The woods were peaceful.

  Too peaceful for a monster’s nest.

  “Are we sure it’s here?” Matthew asked quietly. “We should be seeing the spawns by now, shouldn’t we?”

  Conrad glanced at him. “You’ve hunted with the prince a few times, haven’t you?”

  “I have,” Matthew replied.

  “Including the southern boar?”

  Matthew nodded.

  “Then you remember how we stay still when we observe our prey,” Conrad said. “We move only when it’s time to pounce.”

  Matthew swallowed.

  “Keep your senses sharp,” Conrad continued. “They may already be on top of us, watching from behind the leaves.”

  Edmund’s eyes darted left and right as they walked, Tristan’s doing the same. Both kept their guard up.

  Deeper into the woods, a sound reached them, the faint rustling of leaves overhead.

  All five raised their shields and weapons.

  Then, shouts rang out from a distance. Then another. More followed, joined by growls and snarls.

  “Monsters!” someone shouted nearby.

  The creatures descended from the canopy, dropping around Edmund’s party and hemming them in. They did not attack at once. Ruby eyes studied the men, measuring them.

  In an instant, one lunged at Edmund, a claw flashing toward his head.

  The prince raised his shield just in time and drove his sword through the creature’s chest.

  That was the signal.

  The rest rushed in, teeth bared and claws out.

  Edmund’s entire body blazed with crimson light. He moved with inhuman speed, cutting through the monsters with a balance of grace and measured ferocity.

  One creature was beheaded. Another was cleaved in two. A third, already bisected, still turned to bite, only to meet Edmund’s blade head-on, struck down a second time before it could reach him.

  Tristan was wreathed in flame. Embers danced around him as he carved through the monsters with blazing fury. He fought like a demon, aiming for limbs, heads, tearing foes apart or burning them to ash outright.

  Conrad, Gualter, and Matthew held the line with raised steel, fighting just as fiercely, refusing to give ground.

  “Push forward!” Edmund shouted. “Don’t let them surround us!”

  The men roared as they charged.

  Ahead, shapes burst from the woods. Monsters poured in from every direction, some flying low beneath the branches, others charging along the ground, still more leaping and clinging to the trees above.

  One creature clung to a trunk when it spotted Edmund and sprang at him, its maw aimed for his head.

  Edmund raised his shield, ready to meet it head-on, but Tristan was already moving.

  He leapt from his position, leaving a blazing trail in his wake, and drove his sword straight into the creature’s chest. The sheer force of the blow sent them both crashing back into the tree it had launched from, pinning the monster there.

  Edmund did not waste a moment. A quadruped rushed him next, fast and low, fighting like a jaguar. The prince matched its speed, cutting deep into its side even as its claws raked across him.

  Matthew and Gualter fought as one, never leaving the other’s back. When one raised his shield, pin a monster against the ground or a tree trunk, the other surged forward for the killing blow.

  Conrad kept to the rear, cutting down anything that tried to slip past them. His broadsword alone was enough to cleave monsters in half, even without magic.

  Gradually, they pushed deeper into enemy territory.

  As they advanced, the forest itself began to change, not magically, but physically. The trees grew more withered, their bark dark and brittle. The ground turned barren beneath their feet, and the air thickened with a stench. Burnt wood mixed with rotting flesh.

  Deeper in the woods, Edmund and his group spotted a monster far larger than the rest, at least three times the height of a man. Like its kin, it bore the head of a wolf, crowned with a pair of heavy horns curving from its brow.

  “Defensive formation!” a soldier shouted from somewhere nearby.

  “Watch out! There’s a big one!” another cried further away.

  The creature caught sight of Edmund’s party and charged, moving with the hunched gait of a primate, fists and feet pounding the ground as it ran.

  The five scattered as it slammed both fists into the earth where they had stood moments before. It turned instantly toward Edmund and leapt again, crashing down with brutal force.

  Edmund rolled clear, but the monster twisted mid-motion, raising an open palm to bring it down on him. Before the blow could fall, Tristan dropped onto the creature’s back, driving his blade into its shoulder.

  The monster roared and thrashed wildly, wrenching Tristan free and hurling him from its back. The creature turned toward him, but Matthew and Gualter slammed their shields together, shouting as they advanced, drawing its attention.

  As it charged after them, Edmund rushed in from behind and slashed deep into the back of its leg. The monster shrieked and stumbled, its charge broken. It spun around and swung a massive fist at Edmund. The prince raised his shield just in time, his feet digging into the soil as the blow crashed down with bone-jarring force.

  The creature raised its other arm to strike again, but Tristan was there. He cleaved through the monster’s arm in a burst of blazing rage. Edmund surged forward, driving the creature back before raising his sword and cutting it down from shoulder to waist.

  They paused for a moment, catching their breath as the surge of monsters finally subsided.

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  Shoulders rising and falling, Edmund turned to Tristan. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Tristan did not look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, eyes hard, unblinking.

  “What is it?” Edmund asked, following his stare.

  “We’re close,” Tristan replied. “Victory is within reach, Highness.”

  Edmund looked back at him, unease creeping in, unsettled by the sharp edge in Tristan’s voice.

  At last, the older youth turned toward him. “Is something wrong, Highness?”

  Edmund studied him for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

  Tristan nodded and stepped away, dragging his blade across a whetstone.

  Edmund glanced once more toward the path ahead, feeling a strange pull, something that hadn’t been there before. Not long after, screams and growls rose again. The monsters had caught up, and the assault resumed. Continuing their advance, Edmund finally caught sight of the other groups, having pushed through the worst of the monsters.

  “They’ve taken casualties,” Gualter said grimly as they pressed forward. “They’re missing men.”

  “We’ll take care of that later,” Edmund replied, cutting down another creature as he spoke. “I’m sorry, but we have to press on.”

  “His Highness is correct,” Tristan said, driving his blade into a monster and setting it ablaze as he pushed deeper. “The dead can wait.”

  Edmund turned sharply toward him. “That’s not what I meant, Tristan.”

  Tristan glanced at him, then looked back down the path ahead, saying nothing.

  Gualter watched the exchange in silence, unsure what unsettled him more: Edmund’s resolve, or Tristan’s cold certainty.

  Pushing forward, the trees thinned until they vanished entirely, giving way to ashen ground. Far ahead, a strange glow pulsed between the last remnants of the woods, low growls echoing from its source. As the distance closed, Edmund and his men pressed on, cutting through the final line of monsters before emerging into a wide clearing.

  The land was barren, devoid of trees, plants, or animals, because the entity before them was none of the three.

  Edmund narrowed his gaze, jaw tightening. Conrad and Gualter could only stare, eyes wide.

  “Hemera’s light,” Matthew whispered. “What… what is that?”

  At the center of the clearing stood a blackened tree, its form twisted like shriveled vines fused into a single mass. It bore no leaves, only branches that clawed skyward.

  And within its trunk was the creature they had come to hunt.

  Or rather, what remained of it.

  The Draemhyr’s lower half had been absorbed deep into the tree, its flesh fused with the wood itself. Its wings were torn and pinned in place, bound by thick vines that dug into its skin. More tendrils coiled around its limbs, some creeping up its neck and jaw, holding its head in place. Around the base of the tree, thick roots jutted from the ashen soil, and atop them lay eggs of varying size. Through their translucent shells, the men could see the very creatures they had been fighting, curled and incubating within.

  “This… thing,” Conrad muttered, eyes wide, “this is what was producing them…”

  More soldiers arrived at the clearing, slowing to a halt as the sight registered.

  The Draemhyr stirred.

  It lifted its head and unleashed a growl so deep it rattled the air and shook the ground beneath their feet. Behind Edmund and his men, the trees shuddered and came alive.

  “Monsters from the rear!” a soldier shouted.

  At the same time, a strange pulse surged through the blackened tree, flowing down its trunk and into the roots. The glow spread outward, racing toward the eggs. Cracks split their shells. One by one, they began to hatch, releasing a grotesque variety of creatures.

  Ape-like brutes, swift quadrupeds, winged horrors, serpentine forms.

  With another thunderous growl, the Draemhyr unleashed its horde upon the host.

  The battle resumed.

  “Hold the monsters coming from behind,” Edmund ordered the men to his left. Then he turned to those on his right. “We charge ahead and go for that thing!”

  The men saluted in unison and answered with a roar, charging forward in defiance of the Draemhyr.

  An ape-like creature leapt at Edmund. The prince, blazing brighter in crimson, surged forward to meet it midair and cleaved it in two. A serpentine horror slithered toward him, but Conrad intercepted it, throwing himself sideways and driving his blade into its neck. Edmund cut down a winged gargoyle as it swooped low. At the same time, a jaguar-like beast lunged at him, fangs bared. Matthew and Gualter stepped in as one, shields raised. A soldier farther back hurled a lance, skewering the creature before it could break through.

  Somewhere nearby, Tristan raged through the horde, wreathed in flame. He charged anything that came near him, hacking bodies apart, burning them from within, cutting them down without pause. Edmund spared him no glance, focusing instead on the path ahead.

  As they closed the distance, thick vines erupted from the ground, slamming into the advancing men. The Draemhyr writhed against its bindings, vines tearing loose as it fought to free itself.

  One massive tendril snapped away. The creature seized a half-formed egg and hurled it toward Edmund as he drew near. The prince sprang aside and brought his sword up, blade leveled at the creature. A vine erupted from the ground beside him, slamming into his shield. He barely raised it in time, the impact hurled him backward through the ash.

  Lances and fireballs streaked toward the creature. Vines surged up in response, and newly spawned creatures threw themselves into the barrage, absorbing the blows with screeches of pain. The Draemhyr thrashed harder now, its bound body writhing, arms swaying as its growls deepened into something almost feral. From behind, more monsters slipped past the soldiers holding the rear. Around the clearing, eggs split open one after another, fresh horrors clawing their way free.

  They were being overwhelmed.

  “This won’t do!” Conrad roared. “Men! Form on the Prince!”

  Edmund forced himself upright as his soldiers converged on him, cutting down anything that stood in their way. Shields locked. Steel and flame closed ranks into a single, advancing wall.

  “Charge!” Edmund shouted, and they surged forward as one.

  Fangs, claws, and vines crashed against the formation. Fireballs flared from behind the shields as the Draemhyr hurled eggs and massive tendrils toward them. Step by step, they pushed through the storm. Then the vines came again. Thick, coiling, slamming down in their path.

  The front line broke formation.

  Axes and blades hacked at the monstrous growths, severing them one by one, forcing an opening through the writhing mass.

  Edmund took it.

  He leapt.

  A winged gargoyle dove to intercept him, but Tristan launched himself skyward in a trail of flame, cutting the creature down before it could reach the prince.

  Nothing stood in Edmund’s way.

  He landed atop the Draemhyr’s head and drove his blade down with all his strength. The creature shrieked as its skull split, its massive body sagging beneath the blow.

  Edmund tore free and sprang back.

  Tristan was already there. He plunged his sword into the creature’s trunk and unleashed a torrent of flame. Fire raced through the blackened tree and the fused body alike, consuming both as the Draemhyr let out its final, agonized roar.

  Edmund landed on his feet, then dropped to one knee, exhaustion finally catching up to him. He watched as the mages hurled fireballs into the creature’s remains, ensuring it burned. Around him, his men cut down the last of the monsters. Slowly, the screams of charging warriors faded, replaced by cries of triumph as the few surviving creatures fled deeper into the woods.

  Conrad and the other retainers rushed to his side. “Highness, are you all right?”

  Edmund drew a steadying breath and rose, his gaze fixed on the flames consuming the creature. He turned to face his men.

  “We’ve won.”

  A roar answered him. Weapons were raised high. Some men laughed, others fell to their knees, overwhelmed as the battle finally ended.

  Matthew and Gualter shouted in joy, leaping where they stood, tears streaking their faces.

  “Our friends are avenged!”

  “You got what you deserved, monster!”

  Conrad stepped closer and placed a hand on Edmund’s shoulder.

  “You did it, Prince Edmund. You led us to victory.”

  His lips trembled, just slightly.

  “Fulk and the others… I’m sure they’ll be proud.”

  Edmund smiled faintly and closed his eyes.

  They can finally rest in peace.

  Relief washed over Edmund at the sound of his men rejoicing. With the threat ended, he lowered his guard, and so did the rest of them.

  Then a faint ringing stirred in his ears.

  At first, it was barely there.

  Then it grew louder.

  You did it. Exceptionally well.

  The whisper slithered through his thoughts, low and raspy, like a snake learning to speak.

  Edmund stiffened. He glanced around.

  “Who said that?”

  No one answered.

  “Did anyone hear that?” he asked.

  “Hear what, Highness?” Conrad replied, confused.

  Before Edmund could respond, the air behind him shifted.

  A shout rang out.

  “Master Tristan! It’s not safe there! The fire’s still raging!”

  Edmund turned sharply.

  Tristan was walking toward the burning remains of the creature they had slain. As he drew closer, the flames parted before him, bowing away as though inviting him forward.

  Edmund stepped toward him, arms outstretched.

  “Tristan, wait. Don’t—”

  The ringing returned.

  Louder.

  That’s it. Claim your spoils.

  Edmund’s breath caught. For a heartbeat, he thought the voice was meant for him.

  You want to become a knight.

  You want glory.

  The means—the power—lies before you.

  It was too late when Edmund realized the truth.

  Tristan reached into the charred remains of the tree and pulled free a glowing amber crystal. He raised it before his face.

  “Tristan!” Edmund shouted. “Wait—don’t!”

  Accept it.

  Become the knight you were meant to be.

  Tristan clenched his hand around the crystal.

  It shattered. Or rather,

  it burst.

  Black ichor spilled across his face, but it did not fall. It moved. Crawling. Slithering. Forcing its way into his eyes, his mouth, his nose.

  Tristan lowered his arm.

  He didn’t move.

  He didn’t turn.

  He didn’t make a sound.

  The fire crackled softly behind him, the only noise left in the clearing.

  No one spoke.

  At last, Edmund stepped forward. No one stopped him. The monster was dead. The battle was over.

  He reached out and tapped Tristan’s shoulder.

  “Tristan?” he called.

  For a moment, there was no response.

  Then Tristan began to turn.

  Slowly.

  His head was lowered, until he faced Edmund fully and lifted his gaze. Amber light burned in his eyes.

  Edmund frowned, unease prickling at the back of his neck. His hand drifted instinctively toward the hilt of his sword.

  Tristan caught his arm.

  “Highness,” he whispered, smiling.

  “Tristan, what are you—”

  Edmund was cut off.

  The blow came without warning.

  Tristan slammed his fist into Edmund’s stomach. Armor shattered with a deafening crack. Edmund’s breath tore from his lungs.

  The men gasped.

  “Tri—Tris…tan…” Edmund wheezed, body trembling as pain flooded through him.

  Tristan leaned closer, his voice low, intimate.

  “Well met, Prince Edmund.”

  Then he hurled him toward the men.

  Edmund crashed to the ground, coughing violently, clutching his stomach as agony overwhelmed him.

  “Highness!” some of his men shouted as they rushed toward him.

  “Tristan!” Conrad shouted. “How dare you! Have you gone mad?!”

  Tristan didn’t answer.

  He looked down at his hand instead.

  Slowly, he opened his fingers… then closed them again.

  Once.

  Twice.

  A faint smile tugged at his lips.

  “Not bad,” he murmured.

  Tristan lifted his gaze and stepped forward calmly. He let his sword slip from his hand. It struck the ground and lay forgotten.

  He raised his open palm.

  An obsidian blade formed there, veined with a dull amber glow.

  He smiled at the stunned soldiers.

  “Well,” he said lightly, “I just struck your prince.”

  He tilted his head.

  “Are you all just going to stand there and do nothing?”

  The men snapped out of their shock and raised their shields and weapons once more.

  “You are not Tristan!” Gualter shouted.

  “You will pay, whoever you are!” Matthew screamed.

  The entity smiled wider, clearly amused.

  “Well then, gentlemen,” it said, almost cheerfully.

  “Let us rumble.”