Page 54 of On Broken Bonds

The creature's jaws spread wide, revealing rows of needle-like fangs made entirely of yellowed bone. The teeth chatter together eagerly as it advances, each clack sending another spike of fear through my chest.

And then it lunges.

Thorian moves before I can even scream. With a roar that seems to shake the fog itself, he throws himself forward to meet the creature head-on.

I grip my dagger so tightly that pain shoots through my hand, fresh blood welling from my already abused fingers as steel and bone collide with a deafening crack.

He’s mesmerizing to watch, his movements fluid and sure, as though he knows what path the serpent will take before it does. As though Thorian is not a participant in the fight, but a choreographer of the dance, sliding out of the way just in time, levying his sword up into what would be the throat of the thing, bringing it down in a pile of bones and dust dramatic enough to sweep the breath from my lungs.

Because I'm so focused on Thorian's graceful fighting, I don't see the dire wolf until it's already on me.

A massive weight slams into my side. My feet leave the ground. My dagger nearly flies from my hand. Then the rocky earth crashes into my back hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs.

Pain explodes through me.

The wolf is there. Its enormous body pins me to the ground. Claws dig into my shoulder and upper arm, punching through leather and sending white-hot pain shooting down my side. Hot breath washes over my face, carrying the coppery scent of blood and rotting meat.

The beast snarls. Strings of saliva drip from its jaws. Its yellow eyes lock onto mine. Then it opens its mouth, revealing teeth longer than my fingers.

“Thor—” I start to call, but his name dies on my tongue when a spear flies in from the left, piercing through the dire wolf’s eye and making its body go limp. It slides off of me with a ragged thump.

I breathe hard, trying to get to my feet. Where did Thorian get a spear?

But it’s not Thorian who arrives, planting his boot on the dire wolf’s face and yanking the spear from its eyeball with a wet sucking sound. It’s Fenric, who stares at me with eyes that I realize, suddenly, are a deep emerald green. His red curls are sweaty and plastered to his forehead, his shirt loose and tattered around his chest, which is splattered with dirt and blood.

I open my mouth to say something, maybe to thank him, but a howling roar of agony makes his head snap around and his legs carrying him back into the chaos.

My dagger still clutched desperately in my hand, I watch as Fenric’s only teammate, Osric, I think, falls to the ground, two dire wolves fighting for the privilege of ripping his heart from his chest.

One of them wins, and spits it out on the ground.

“Let’s go!”

Thorian is at my side again, grabbing me again, hauling me away, again, and I go willingly, not wanting to see another second of this gruesome scene. Not wanting to see Fenric’s clothes even more blood-spattered, or his partner’s open, gaping chest, the ribs pried open like the shell of an oyster.

I was unaware wolves were even capable of such a thing. It must be due to the magic, making the monsters in this place more gruesome and violent than anywhere else.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears like the galloping of horses, and without Thorian pulling me along through the mess, I think I might have fallen down a long time ago. He leaps over fallen beasts and people with ease, thrusting us toward the tree line.

At first, the line of trees on the far edge of the clearing feels like a safe haven, but after diving into it and making it a few steps in, we hear growling and snarling, the beat of paws and hooves and bones on the forest floor.

More monsters. Coming toward us.

I turn to Thorian, waiting for directive. He’s been through this before. Surely this is something the gods try every year. Bombarding the competitors with beasts as an opening nightmare.

But for the first time since meeting him, I see genuine panic on his face.

Thorian Valehart doesn’t know what to do.

And if he doesn’t know what to do, we’re both going to die.

Like on the cliff’s face, my sister’s smile flashes to my mind, and I remember that I will do whatever it takes to save her life. Thorian might slit my throat for this in a moment, but for now, I’m going to get us through this.

“What are you⁠—?”

I’m not actually strong enough to move Thorian, but I think my shove is surprising enough to him that he actually stumbles, his back colliding with a tree. He blinks at me, his brows pulled together.

“Nyx—?”