Page 165 of Warlord's Plaything

The next, gone.

Magic bursts where he stood, smoke curling, a teleportation spell ripping him from the battlefield before we can land the killing blow.

And just like that?—

The fucking coward escapes.

"No—!"

Hira’s growl is pure rage, her body snapping forward as if she can still catch him, still carve her sword into his throat.

But she can’t.

We can’t.

Kaelith is gone.

And we have to prepare for whatever the fuck comes next.

52

HIRA

The fires still smolder.

The battlefield is a graveyard of bodies that refuse to stay dead.

And Kaelith is gone.

But he left his corruption behind.

I can still feel it in the air.

A foul, slithering thing, wrapping around my throat, sinking into my bones.

Xyron feels it more.

His back is to me, eyes fixed on the horizon.

The wind whips through his silver hair, his jaw locked, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

I’ve seen him angry before.

Seen him hungry for battle.

For blood.

But this?

This is different.

He’s not just furious.

He’s haunted.

"This is why my father never let them take this land."

His voice is low, strained, like he's speaking through clenched teeth.

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