He collided back into the present so hard he rolled over and emptied the contents of his stomach. Gasping for breath, he threw up his iron walls, sealing them tight, and the well of voices quieted until it was just him, only to notice how silent outside the tent was. The hairs on his arm rose as he silently stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder and unsheathing his weathered sword. Everything made sense. How hard Tadeas pushed them to reach the capital, how loud they were being. It was practically ensuring Cesan would come sniffing. To fall into the king’s trap. Only for Tadeas to kill him with no chance of justice. To hear both sides.
Rage ripped through him of how fast Roque had risked them all, had bent to the claim of being King. What did Cesan know? What was Roque afraid would be found? Cold sweat soaked through his shirt as he pushed the thoughts down for now. The firelight danced outside, and he could see Brokk and Alby’s silhouettes, their voices a low murmur. That’s when he heard the howling. Distant at first, like a humming in the night. Then drawing unnaturally closer, faster, the sounds of hundreds. He shot out of the tent, taking in his friends bathed in the glow from the fire, all of them frozen. It was the same effect as losing all sense of clarity. The lurching panic, and then helplessness, as you grappled to hold onto anything.
The screaming started first at the north end of the camp. Brokk stood, all color draining from his face. Memphis spun, taking in the nightmare forming. Their bodies were like sleek armored plates, gleaming and muscular. Their elongated torsos were like serpents, twisting and flexing as they propelled forward with long black legs. Their bald bodies shimmered like water against the firelight, reflecting their drooling maws and inky teeth. Their orange eyes gleamed with madness as they cut down through tents and bodies. He had heard of creatures of dark ancient magic before. Ones that were told to children to keep their fears heightened and curiosity in check. But as he saw the first monster rip the throat out of one of Tadeas’s men, this was the farthest thing from bedtime stories of old.
Utter chaos broke out as Brokk threw himself forward, shifting in one motion, as his colossal paws thundered, shaking the earth. Alby drew his sword, and immediately became invisible. Roars rose from the creatures as he assaulted them, unseen. Heart thundering, Memphis drew his own.
Everything moved in slow motion. He felt himself take in the numbers of the monsters as they poured into the camp, their rage and their might crashed into their own. It was a battle of tyrants. Yelling, he bounded forward, his ability already two steps ahead of him, reacting in his fear. His talons exploded, slashing their dark minds, grasping their will, their bodies, holding them still as Brokk made his landing blow. He ducked. Slashed. Growling, thrusting his blade forward. His ability cut and unbound the creature’s minds. He was a darkened duet, of body and ability, the two forces creating a lethal harmony. Their inky talons, and severed bodies filled his senses as he heard The King of the Shattered Isles roar.
His consciousness slid into Brokk’s. “Brokk. The Isles.” They were one unit, had always been one unit. The giant wolf before him, the fire reflecting in his intelligent eyes, as he flung himself onto one of the creature’s backs, his claws digging into the black flesh. The anguish of the monster’s cry split through him, adding to his adrenaline. This was too convenient. Too easy. These creatures born from the night had known where they would be. He ran, bloodcurdling screams surrounding him. To his left, a man was crying. To his right, a student was screaming as a monster slowly tore into his arm socket, his blood spurting over them both. The smell of smoke clung to his lungs as bile seared his throat, spilling through his lips. But through his panic, he didn’t stop.
His mind whirled, trying to connect the dots as he fought his way over to Tadeas’s men. Too many had already fallen, fellow students, teachers. Iasan was the only one in Memphis’s peripheral left standing, his body fluid and blurred as he cut through them. He was pure malice, snarling and yelling. Fighting to get to Tadeas as well. He ran hard, not looking back, but his mind brushed up against Alby’s and Brokk’s consciousness. They were following behind, weaving through the carnage. His fear sliced through him, consuming, as one by one the fires were extinguished. The flash of steel, the screams, the clashing of the fight surrounded them blindly. Move. Move. Move. The power was intoxicating as he snuffed out each creature’s mental stability; his ability was like a poison and he relished in it. Their executed blows became sloppy, giving them the upper hand. Tadeas clapped his hands as wind and water exploded as one, capturing their enemy. And drowning them.
“Memphis!” Alby’s yell cut through him as his friend flickered into view beside him. There was a crack that was deafening as hot pain laced through his back. His body was dragged down and then back. Dirt and blood filled his mouth as his scream ripped from his throat. A thick muscled tail wrapped around his torso as he took in the snarling creature dragging him closer.
The creature’s voice was silken as it rattled throughout the folds of his mind. “You are not like the others. You have pieced together that we are not here by coincidence.”
He snarled, kicking, trying to twist out of its iron hold. It snarled darkly as he took in the saliva dripping from its massive jaws. Its eyes seemed to grow brighter the harder he resisted.
“The true king has come. We grow hungry and tired in the darkness, always skittering to the shadows. The
