Page 26 of The Midnight Death Match

I still can’t believe my brother already triggered his werewolf. That’s not true. Icanbelieve it. Leif has always beentemperamental, and heisGunnar’s son. More than any of my siblings, he adores his father, and of all of them, he’s the most likely to have killed someone. But it doesn’t make it any easier. No matter what, he’s my younger brother, and I hate the vengeance- and violence-filled path he’s chosen.

While there isn’t anything I can do for him, I can still work to protect my siblings and Harek’s parents. Not to mention the pack members we don’t know but are, in a way I don’t fully understand, extended family.

Einar speaks, pulling me from my thoughts and back to the tent. “We have to eat then set off. Finding a mysterious something that hunts your pack isn’t going to be an easy task.”

I force myself to sit, exhaustion tugging at me. Tonight I need to sleep more and think less. On the other side of my father, Harek pulls his blanket over his face.

Einar pulls it from his grasp. “We don’t have time to waste. There’s still the hunter curse to deal with in addition to this new quest.”

We go our separate ways to hunt for a filling meal. Unsurprisingly, Harek is the first to catch something. As archers, his parents taught him to use a bow as soon as he could walk.

After feeding ourselves and the dragons, we take off on foot. Sapphire and Vash stay close behind, as if they sense danger. Einar and I both check our palms, but they don’t light, so we must be far from any evil fae.

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Part of me wants to rip apart the ones behind all of this. It seems like it all has to be connected. My parents meeting and having me couldn’t have been an accident. Not when things appear to have been working toward a boiling point that meets at the intersection of… me. The first huntress, the werewolf who can shift at any time, and the keeper of secrets.

If only I could decipher what the etched message on the sword means. It’s hiding something, but I don’t know what. Yet another thing to keep me up at night when I need rest.

The forest around us changes. It begins subtly—a hush deeper than silence, a breeze that carries no sound. Then the trees shift, their bark darkening to silver-veined obsidian. Moss blooms in luminous blue, and petals the size of my palm drift from unseen branches, landing without sound.

It’s beautiful.

It sends a chill down my spine.

Sapphire and Vash both growl low behind us. Even they sense it.

The woods open ahead to a glade—circular, untouched, and impossibly bright. Sunlight pours down in tense beams, catching on suspended pollen that glows like gold. A small spring trickles in the center, its water clear.

At the heart of it all stands a tall and imposing man who reminds me of the nobles of the fae council in the city. He doesn’t look much older than Harek and me, but he gives off an energy of someone much older. His robes shimmer with hues that change as he shifts, turning green one moment, midnight the next. His skin is dusky bronze, his eyes a stormy jade that flicker faintly, like bioluminescence caught beneath ice.

Unmoving, he simply waits.

My father puts out his hands, indicating for Harek and me to stay where we are. “Who are you?”

A slow smile creeps across the stranger’s face. “Lysandros.” He turns to me. “You’re Eira. Daughter of the Secret Keeper. And more importantly, the blood-bound huntress.”

My hand tightens on the hilt of my sword, and it flares beneath my fingers. Golden light pulses along the etchings, yet my palm remains unchanged.

Harek steps closer to me, protective.

Einar draws beside me, wary, ready. “How do you know her, Lysandros?”

“I’ve been waiting. Searching. Studying the ancient tomes. Everything is coming together as predicted so long ago.”

His words make my skin crawl.

“Why?” my father demands.

Lysandros doesn’t acknowledge the question. He makes no effort to hide his interest, staring at me with an intensity I don’t know what to do with.

Harek steps slightly in front of me. “How do you know so much about her? Orthinkyou do?”

He gives Harek an almost bored glance. “Who are you?”

Harek’s muscles tense. “We should be asking you the same question.”

“I already told you. I’m Lysandros.” He glances over at me. “She can call me Lys. You two can’t.”

An angry grunt escapes from Harek. “Whoareyou?”

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