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Iryana grabbed Pyetar’s arm, trembling. They were barely hidden by the low branches of a pine tree, crushed together with their shields thick as they could make them.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as the newly formed dakya began to thrash. Unconcerned, the man lowered his arms and pulled out a small towel from his coat, wiping the gold liquid from his wrists. The dakya rose to unsteady legs and then looked toward the man.

“Find the others,” the man said, causing Iryana to jerk. His voice was soft and almost musical, yet it carried easily across the clearing.

The dakya bounded out of the clearing, heading north.

What the fuck had she just seen?

There was a rustle above her, and Iryana threw her head back to see the foxlike creature sitting on a branch above her. She finally got a good look at it.

The creature had the face of a fox, fur trailing down its long spine. But the body was serpentine, long and covered in black scales. Red diamond patterns extended along the sides. As if sensing her attention, the creature looked down at her with eyes all black but for a golden slit down the middle. It looked back to the man in the clearing, as if he were far more interesting than Iryana and Pyetar.

Iryana reached for Pyetar to point it out to him, but Pyetar launched himself into the clearing. Twin metal-forged blades formed in his hands.

You idiot. She formed her spear, the pain surprisingly manageable, and raced after him.

The man turned, leveling them with brilliant golden eyes.

Pyetar swung, and Iryana was suddenly staring at the sky, flying across the clearing as if struck. She crashed into the snow, gasping down air. Pyetar was scrambling up a few paces away.

The man stood there, watching them with an expression that reeked of boredom. She tried to come to terms with the fact that she was looking at the man who had created the beasts. Created the poppies. Because of him, thousands upon thousands of people were dead. Her father was ruined and died from it. Rage coursed through her.

Iryana led the charge this time. She moved like she was going to thrust her spear into his chest, but then she threw it at him instead.

The man batted it away with a gust of wind that materialized as he waved his hand.

“You cannot kill me,” the man said in his musical voice. “Don’t waste your energy.”

Wind knocked her back into the snow, holding her down no matter how hard she struggled. Pyetar tried to dive in front of her, but the man knocked him down too. There was no forging in his hands, no source of the magic he used against them.

Confusion dug into her, but it wasn’t enough to still her rage.

Fifteen years of being hunted. Fifteen years of death and loss. Of pain and sacrifice. And this man was causing it. Hatred wasn’t enough to describe what she felt as she writhed beneath the power.

“You created the dakii!” Iryana screamed, trying to free herself, thrashing against the snow. “You’re killing us! You monster!”

He cocked his head, blinking at them in surprise. “I am protecting your precious Istri.”

“By creating monsters to hunt us?” she shrieked.

“You have nothing to do with it, but sacrifices must be made.”

Her whole body tensed. “How fucking dare you!”

“Iryana, don’t,” Pyetar urged her. He had stilled and was now looking at the man nervously.

But Iryana couldn’t stop herself. “The only thing Istri needs saving from is you! I’m going to kill you! I’m going to—”

“Don’t hurt her,” Pyetar begged the man, trying again to get to her. There was fear in his wide blue eyes.

The man chuckled. “Why would I? She’s not bothering me.”

Iryana growled.

“This use of magic is perverse!” she spat. Every muscle in her body was shaking. “The gods would smite you where you stand if they were still alive.”

The man turned to her and then full out laughed. “One of them surely would.”