Page 96 of A Dagger in the Ivy

My stomach churns at the revelation, a cold knot of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Beside me, Dante’s face pales. He sees it too.

As Torbin moves about the campsite, I can’t help but feel a shiver run down my spine at the sight of him. His tall, lean frame moves with an effortless grace, his muscular, bare chest glistening with sweat despite the biting cold. Dirt and grime mar his skin, evidence of his time spent in the wilderness among the carnoraxis, who flinch when he comes near them.

But it’s not just his appearance that gives me pause—it’s the look in his eyes. Haunting, dark, and intense. There’s something otherworldly about him, a sense of power and authority that radiates from his very being. I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from him, and I’m mesmerized by the raw energy that seems to crackle around him like a cloak. He moves with a purpose, his every movement calculated and deliberate, as if he is no longer the same man I once knew.

Fuck. I saw his dark side before. I never should have dismissed it.

The transformation is undeniable, his once-charming demeanorreplaced by something altogether more primal and dangerous. And as the reality of our situation sinks in, I can’t help but wonder what other secrets lie hidden beneath the surface of this desolate landscape.

Dante’s eyes are intense, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he speaks in hushed tones. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Maybe… Maybe he’s under a spell.” Maybe he’s been under a spell for a while. It would explain his recent outbursts. It’s the only thing I can think of that makes some semblance of sense.

“We have to do something.” Dante’s gaze meets mine, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“But what?” I shake my head. “There are Dulcamaran guards and carnoraxis everywhere. We’re heavily outnumbered.”

“We need a plan.” Dante scrubs at the scruff on his chin.

My mind whirls as I peer at Torbin from behind the boulder. The camp sprawls beneath us like some dark blight on the valley. Torbin stands in the center of everything, and the carnoraxis are restless, snarling and prowling about like twisted shadows.

“We have to get him away from them,” I whisper, my voice taut with urgency. “If we can separate him from them, maybe—maybe we can break whatever spell they have on him.”

Dante’s eyes narrow as he studies the scene below. “Agreed. But we’ll need to be fast. Those guards won’t let him go easily, and the carnoraxis will be on us in an instant if we’re spotted.”

“If he is under a spell,” I begin, “he may not come willingly.”

Dante gives an understanding nod. “We may need to use force.”

I nod, heart pounding in my chest. “We’ll circle around to the east, slip between the tents, and get close enough to grab him. We can’t fight them all, but if we’re careful…”

Dante’s jaw tightens, and he nods once. “Right. Let’s go.”

We move quickly, keeping low as we make our way down the slope. The ground is uneven, loose dirt and stones shifting beneath our feet, but we’re quiet—years of training taking over. The scent of smoke and damp earth fills the air, and the occasional guttural growl from the carnoraxis sends shivers down my spine. Every nerve in my body is on high alert,and the darkness of night presses in around us as we inch closer to the camp.

We pause behind a thick clump of trees, the camp now only a stone’s throw away. I can see Torbin more clearly now, his face illuminated by the campfires. He’s speaking with one of the Dulcamaran officers, but there’s no emotion in his expression, just a cold, detached calmness that makes my stomach turn.

Dante stands impossibly close to me. He’s focused, every muscle tense, ready to spring into action. We exchange a glance, and in that brief moment, I know we’re both thinking the same thing: whatever happens next, there’s no turning back.

With a final deep breath, we move forward, slipping into the shadows of the camp. The tension in the air is palpable. Dante and I move in unison, our weapons drawn, and my senses are on high alert. We stop at the tent’s edge and peer at the area nearest to where we stand.

As the eerie whistle of the carnoraxis echoes through the air, my gaze falls upon the creatures for the first time in a different light. No longer are they the frenzied, snarling beasts of battle, but rather they stand hunched and ready, a grotesque mockery of humanity. Their gaunt forms are draped in tattered remnants of clothing, their faces twisted into grotesque masks of agony and despair.

Their sunken eyes gleam with a malevolent hunger, their elongated limbs twitching with an otherworldly energy. The stench of decay hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the sickly sweet aroma of rotting flesh. Each movement they make is a malformed contortion, as if their very existence is a perversion of nature itself.

A shiver of revulsion courses through me. But I push down the thought when Torbin suddenly steps into my line of vision. My heart clenches at the sight of him. He is no longer recognizable. Had he always had that cold glare? Was I so blinded from our long-standing friendship that I missed the fact that he’d become something sinister?

The two guards he was speaking to march away, carrying out his orders.

Now’s my chance.

I weigh my risk and dart out, my dagger already palmed. I’m hoping I don’t have to threaten him with it, but I have no idea the hold this spell might have on him. Just as I reach out from behind him to hold my weapon near his neck, high-pitched shrieks fill my ears. I’m knocked to the ground by one of the beasts, released chains clinking with its movements, its form hovering above me, ready to lash out. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dante swing his falchion at another of the carnoraxis, who shifts quickly to dodge the blow.

Saliva drips onto my face as the creature holding me down widens its maw.

A whip cracks, and the carnoraxis hiss. The creature keeps its glare fixed on me as it backs away, a guard yanking on its chain. Torbin’s voice cuts through the cacophony of sounds as he commands his men to hold the carnoraxis at bay, a glimmer of recognition flickering in his eyes as he approaches us.

I meet Torbin’s gaze, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the haunted look in his eyes. Never has he looked at me with such malevolence. My grip tightens on my weapon, my resolve warring with the conflicting emotions that swirl within me. The Dulcamaran guards seize me and Dante, holding our wrists behind our backs as the carnoraxis lurk nearby. They stare, their muscles twitching and claws extended, like they’re waiting to be released on us.

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