Page 42 of Broken Star

I clench my fists, magic crackling at my fingertips. “We should go,” I snap, stalking forward onto the pier, the wooden planks groaning beneath my steps.

Riven follows, his presence at my side too familiar, too close, and too heavy with things unspoken.

We step onto the pier, and the air shifts. The pressure changes.

A growl rumbles from below.

Then—splintering wood.

Riven yanks me back in a blur of movement, his grip iron tight as a monstrous, snarling creature erupts from below, its fur dripping with seawater, its jagged teeth snapping at the air. The thing reeks of rotting salt and brine, its hulking body coiling unnaturally, as if it’s been waiting for this moment for years.

“What the—?” I hiss, my magic buzzing under my skin, ready to strike.

The creature rears up, letting out a screech that’s part shriek, part roar. Like the ocean itself crying out in rage.

“Tell me you’ve fought one of these before,” I say to Riven, flipping my dagger into a steady grip.

“Afraid not.” He draws his sword in a single, fluid motion, frost coating the blade, already having thrown the pack to the ground. “But I’m always eager to try new things.”

The creature lunges.

I dive left. Riven rolls right.

Perfect sync. Just like he drilled into me during training.

The monster’s claws tear through the spot where we were standing, splintering the wood like paper.

Magic floods my veins, and I slam it forward in a blast of air and water to knock the beast off balance.

It staggers, and Riven’s already moving, his body a blur of lethal grace as he leaps at the monster and slashes deep into one of its limbs.

Frost spreads instantly, the wound leaking a mixture of blood and seawater. But the monster retaliates fast, swiping at Riven with one massive, clawed limb, followed by the other.

Riven ducks and dodges, moving like he was built for war. But even as he lands another clean hit, the monster’s first wound closes in practically a second.

Far faster than any supernatural healing I’ve ever heard of or experienced.

But I can’t just stand here and stare. I have toact.

So, I raise my hands and call on the ocean, pulling moisture from the air and sea, shaping it into marble-sized orbs.

Then, with a flick of my wrist—I launch them.

The razor-sharp water bullets hit their mark, piercing the monster’s hide like a hail of daggers.

The monster shrieks. But just like the sword wounds, the holes seal in a second.

“Any weak spots you can see?” I call out to Riven, shooting another round of “water bullets” at the monster. They make it flinch back, but the wounds heal before I can blink.

“Working on it,” Riven calls back, his voice tight with concentration.

His blade flashes. Another deep slash, this time across the monster’s shoulder.

The ice spreads, slowing the healing, but only for a moment.

“Although I have to admit,” he adds, sidestepping another brutal swipe, ice magic twisting around him like a storm, “this is a new one, even for me.”

His form blurs as he circles behind the monster, his sword flashing in a precise, lethal arc before slicing its neck.

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