Page 60 of The Curse of Ophelia

“Stay true,” I called over the earth’s roar. The two words the warriors spoke in a time of fear.

But the encouragement was lost among a swelling growl to the north. My heart pounded behind my ribs with the mounting sound. I swiveled atop Sapphire, unprepared for the horde of monstrous, wolf-like creatures breaking the horizon. Claws and teeth flashed in the tangle of sunlight and smoky haze. Yellow eyes honed in on their prey.

On us.

“By the ever-damned Angels,” Tolek muttered.

Our mares took off like the wind, traveling south—away from the beasts—but I pulled on Sapphire’s reins. We needed to go toward the Spirit Volcano.

But if we continued that way, we would intersect the beasts chasing us. Meet them head-on in a fatal clash of weapons and claws.

I swallowed my fear of that attack. We did not have a choice.

Sapphire yielded, understanding my direction, and her gallop quickened as she changed course toward the base of the volcano. Her movements were swift, the landscape beside us blurring into a mess of black ash as we flew over the sand. The horses’ hooves kicked soot into the air. My vision blurred, eyes burning, but I blinked away the tears, laying my panic to rest with each flutter of my lashes.

I lay flat against Sapphire’s neck and kicked my heels into her side, glancing toward the wolves. They moved with a preternatural speed and grace. Howls echoed from the pack as they surged forward in a flash of silver fur and onyx claws, traveling at a diagonal. Toward us, but also toward the base of the volcano.

Terror dug its nails into my stomach. If we didn’t hurry, they would form a wall between us and the rocky surface. How had I not predicted this type of challenge on the tundra? I feared that the Undertaking would end before it even began.

No. I gritted my teeth. That couldn’t happen. They could not be allowed to unify between us and the volcano. We could fight them one-on-one, pick them off as the pack traveled, but breaching a solid formation from this side would be so much harder.

“Faster,” I breathed to Sapphire. “Come on, girl.”

But the wolves were faster still. I flicked my gaze to them every other second. They gained ground.

These couldn’t be normal wolves. Not with their unnatural size and speed. Much like the ink that etched my tattoo, the pack had to be enhanced. The aura of the unseen geysers of magic seeping from the earth worked its way into their systems, bulking their muscles and sharpening their senses. Building the strongest guardians for the first defense of the Mystique Mountains and the Spirit Volcano.

“They’re imbued!” I called over my shoulder, ignoring the horror that gripped my stomach at the realization.

“How will we outrun the damn things, then?” Tolek yelled.

“Running from a fight, Vincienzo?” Jezebel coughed over the smoke.

Cypherion reached for his scythe. “I thought I’d never see the day.”

“You still haven’t,” Tolek growled, speeding past me with his sword in hand.

Angels, they were ridiculous. But I smiled at my brigade of courage and chaos. I unsheathed Starfire from my hip, raising her above my head. Her blade became a beacon of light against the clouded sky and mountain-scape.

“We fight!” I bellowed. Four war cries echoed my own.

More than twenty wolves charged at us. I stood in the stirrups, my muscles screaming from the days of riding and hiking I had put my body through, but my heart sang louder.

In a mess of whinnies, howls, and screams, fur, flesh, and blood, we collided with the wolves. Sapphire reared up beneath me, and I tangled my hand in her blue mane, squeezing my thighs. My breath hitched when she used her front feet to knock aside a wolf as large as herself.

A devilish smile crossed my lips. My warrior horse.

I pulled Malakai’s spear from my back, feeling the energy pass through my flesh. With a weapon in each hand, I greeted the first test of my Mystique Warrior future.

My heart pounded with each movement, but I latched on to the echoing beat as a point of focus, drowning out my terror. I raised the spear over my shoulder and brought it forward with all the force in my body. It sank into the closest wolf’s side, not even deep enough to meet bone. When I pulled it out, a small but steady trickle of red seeped into the gray fur.

The animal crumpled to the sand, its growls ceasing within a cloud of black dirt.

I gaped at the wolf, unsure if it was truly slain.

One strike. And a nonfatal one at that. Its large chest continued to rise and fall as the blood slowed, but the animal showed no sign of moving. This creature was instilled with the magic of our mountains, but one puncture was all it took to defeat it.

My mind whirled, battle continuing around me. Magic always had motives. The wolves were no arbitrary guard. They were creatures of the mountains—powerful and mystical and protective—blessed by Lynxenon for a purpose, but not for unjustified destruction.

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