Page 3 of The Midnight Death Match

Three

The wind shiftsas soon as we near Einar’s home.Myhome. Even after a few months, it’s still a foreign thought. In my bones, the old farm from which I’ve been banished is still home. I ache to return to my younger siblings. They need to know they’re halflings and will awaken their werewolf side should they kill a human or a fae.

Leif, the oldest of my half-siblings, is my biggest concern. He has a fiery temper equal to his father’s. Gunnar, my stepfather, doesn’t know what patience is. Tolerance and compassion are foreign concepts to him. He tried to sell me to the highest bidder the moment my mother took her last breath.

My hunter blade stirs against my side, pulling me from my thoughts, its metal still but its magic active. I glance toward Einar, who says nothing. He’s been quiet since the clearing. His silence is equal parts unnerving and calming. He has a steady strength and perfect confidence which often helps me focus.

Before us, the stone home carved into the mountain face rises from mist and cliff like a watchful sentinel. Above, a shadow arcs across the clouds.

Sapphire.

She circles, dives, her orange scales catching what little sun is left. A glint in her eye belies her innocence—she knows what a terrifying sight she is. Like a falling flame, she lands on the outer perch, wings stretching wide before folding with grace. Her intelligent gaze stops on Einar first, then me.

I nod to her, hand still resting on my sword. She releases a low, rattling huff.

A second dragon glides silently above us. Midnight black, wings outstretched like smoke across the sky. Vash. He doesn’t land but soars overhead with purpose.

We reach the stairway then ascend, boots echoing off the carved steps. No words between us.

When we get to the door, it’s already open. Harek stands inside, leaning against the entry arch with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. His cloak is damp, boots muddy. His expression shifts when he sees us—relief first, then something sharper.

“Where have you been?” His gaze lands on me, and he sniffs. “You smell like old blood and burned bone.”

“Good to see you too.”

My best friend doesn’t even crack a smile. “We have a problem.”

Einar and I follow Harek through the outer hall, past the twin hearths flanking the entry. Sapphire’s claws click against the balcony outside, a low rumble following us like thunder from a brewing storm.

Harek leads us into the map room. It’s one of my father’s favorites, with a domed ceiling that flickers with fae lights. They shimmer over a table carved from black stone, its surface etched with maps of the surrounding regions.

My friend tosses a folded cloth onto the center of the map. A charcoal sketch unrolls across the borders of the town of Mirendel, where we now live. The lines are harsh and coiled in a shape that makes my stomach clench.

I know it before it’s fully revealed.

“The totem.” My words barely come out above a whisper.

Harek nods, tapping one of the glyphs near the center. “Not just any totem. This one’s meant for blood fracture.”

“Where did you… When…” I struggle to form a complete sentence. “But you weren’t there!”

He stares at me. “You’ve seen it?”

“We were just there. When didyousee it?”

“From a vision.”

My mouth falls open, but my voice won’t cooperate. My mind is too busy trying to make sense of it. Harek had a vision of the site Einar and I stumbled upon?

There’s no way that’s a coincidence.

My father moves beside me, studies the lines. “Ritual design. Very old. Possibly pre-hunter era.”

I glance up, finding my voice. “What does it do?”

“Targets bloodlines,” Harek answers. “Tears them apart, making legacy magic inert. If it’s strong enough, it can erase a line from existence. Not by killing it, but by nullifying it.”

My stomach does acrobatics. “Someone wants to eliminate the hunter line.”

---