Page 63 of Ravenrose

I can’t breathe. I can’t think as I watch the terror play out.

I lost track of Ayer in the melee, so I search for him now, and find him running for the campfire.

The flames are nearly extinguished now by flying dirt and bodies, but he rips off his shirt, fanning the dying embers furiously to get it back going. Flames flicker up, and he wastes no time lighting one torch and then another, handing one to Wyatt. The two of them exchange a look before both running toward the monster.

The creature pauses, the flames from Ayer’s torch reflecting in those hollow black eyes. It swings—hard—and I choke on a gasp as Ayer meets the blow with his sword. The impact sends him flying back, and he blocks another attack with a quick parry of his blade, while using his other hand to thrust his small torch underneath the creature’s thorny limb.

The fire catches.

Wyatt has more success, lighting up another couple of the monster’s smaller branches and a vine that the creature immediately reels back. The vine flails wildly as the creature screams, attempting to snuff out the spreading flames.

Seeing Ayer’s strategy, more torches are lit and the men work together, some blocking blows with swords, or peppering those disturbing eyes with arrows. The soldiers with torches rush forward, pressing flames into the bark and the roots as they fight their way closer into the writhing mass of the creature’s body.

The fire spreads quickly, and the creature releases another pained scream. A horrible, anguished sound before it convulses, lashing out violently in its final moments as the flames completely consume it. And with one last thunderous roar, it collapses to the ground, the impact causing the land to tremble beneath my fingers.

The flames take it now, and the eerie glow of its hollow eyes slowly fades into darkness. The vines and branches that had sown terror just moments before now lay unmoving, scattered haphazardly across the little clearing.

Silence.

I stay where I am, my gaze fixed on the creature, heart pounding, taking in deep breaths while my body still trembles. My brain is still trying to process what in the twelve hells just happened.

The men approach it cautiously, ensuring it’s truly dead before tending to the wounded.

Slowly, I push myself to my feet on shaky knees, my eyes scouring the dark woods surrounding us for any sign that more tree monsters might be out there.

A moan sounds out nearby, and my gaze drops to a man. The one the creature had in its grasp. He’s moving—still alive. Instinct has me walking toward him before I can think twice. He’s covered in blood. I can feel the healing magic trapped beneath my skin as if it has a mind of its own, and my fingers twitch.

I take one step. Then another. But I pull up just before I reach him when I meet his glare. He’s barely on his feet before pushing a ruddy finger in my face.

“You!” he shouts, his expression hard.

I reel back as he staggers forward. I don’t get far—my back slams into something hard and unyielding, and I let out a yelp of surprise, glancing over my shoulder only to recognize Ayer behind me, blocking my escape.

The wounded soldier staggers closer. “It’s you. You did this.”

My breath catches, and I shake my head quickly back and forth.

“Wh—what?” I can barely get the word out. How could this possibly be my fault?

The soldier’s accusation has drawn the attention of the camp, and I feel more than see everyone’s eyes on me. The monster might be dead, but by the looks of hatred all around me, the men just found a new one.

Chapter 30

ROWAN

We move out at dawn.

I feel the men’s suspicious glares as they ride past.

Seth—the man from last night—is still alive, though thoroughly battered and bruised. He leveled a death glare at me before riding ahead with the others. There’s no suspicion in his gaze, only certainty.

In Seth’s eyes, I’m already guilty.

Ayer said very little when Seth accused me of somehow summoning the tree monster. He himself didn’t accuse me, but he didn’t defend me either. The captain just took firm hold of my arm, silently dragged me over to his horse, bound my hands, and left me there, stalking away to address his men and assist with the wounded. Unfortunately, they were too far away for me to hear any of what they were saying, but from the glares and stares leveled my way, I have a few thoughts.

But I think I saw a flicker of regret when Ayer retied the ropes around my already abused wrists, though it was gone before I could work out if my mind was playing tricks on me or not.

Walking is worse today.