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Roots surged up, not striking—reaching. Pleading. Grasping for her with a terrible, desperate tenderness. Wren screamed, throwing her hands up as her mark blazed white-hot. Light erupted from her skin, carving through the gray world until it disappeared completely.

She bolted upright.

“Wren!” Orzen’s hands gripped her shoulders. His eyes darkened. “You’re shaking.” He tugged her to her hooves, peering toward the black sky. “We’ve gotta go. Something’s coming!”

The forest surged back into focus.

The air was black and red—boulders glowing with runes that pulsed in time with her mark. Her wrist burned, the rhythm pounding in her veins. She scrambled from her blankets as the night filled with a droning buzz.

Not from Garin’s wards.

Wings. Dozens of them, beating fast, closing in on the camp.

Chapter 28

Screeches From the Veil

The camp exploded into motion. Silas was already on his feet, crossbow loaded, eyes scanning the dark. Orzen pulled Jessa and Calen from their bedrolls then turned to shake Branwynn awake. Garin slammed the butt of his staff on the ground, a gust blowing outward as runes flared beneath his boots.

“Mass of them,” Garin said. “Coming fast. Ready yourselves.”

Branwynn pressed Tommick against the rockface, his small body trembling against hers, too scared to cry out. Calen and Jessa stumbled backward, faces tilted skyward.

The hum deepened, thickening the air until every breath was heavy like a storm about to break. The wards burned crimson, their chimes pealing a frantic warning.

Then—the forest screamed. It wasn’t only a cry. It was a wave cracking the sky—sound tearing itself apart.

Shrieks layered upon shrieks until the pitch needled bone. The glyphs pulsed once, and stone erupted from the ground. Pillars tore upward, locking into a jagged ring. Wren stumbled back, colliding with Garin as he caught himself on his staff.

Bodies the size of gourds hit the stone with wet thuds. One creature overshot the barricade, collapsing in a sprawl of jointed limbs. It twitched, shuddered, and folded in on itself, still hissing. For a heartbeat the wards held—talons scraping rock, papery wings rasping like torn parchment.

Then the swarm adapted. Shadows lifted overhead. Bulbous shapes hurled themselves into the air, wings vibrating so fast the sound blurred into a single, throbbing note. Legs hooked the rock. Claws found the bodies of their own fallen, using them as ladders to climb the stone

They poured over in droves.

The night was alive with fluttering wings, dripping blood, and cracking stone. Shrieks ricocheted from boulder to boulder. Wren clapped her hands over her ears. The noise wasn’t simply loud; it pierced, needling straight through her skull. In the dim flashes of firelight, she caught glimpses of swollen bodies, thin bat-like wings, and bulbous white eyes that never seemed to blink.

Silas fired—two, three bolts in measured rhythm. Each strike dropped a creature twitching into the dirt. Orzen spun through the fray, his blade a flash of lightning in the dark. One screecher shrieked as its wings were cleaved away, black ichor spraying the ground. Wren staggered, heart hammering, reaching instinctively for Spirit, but the threads slipped through her fingers like smoke.

Tommick’s terrified cry cut through the din. Wren’s head snapped toward him. He clawed at Branwynn’s skirts, wide-eyed and shaking. She bent over her son, her body the only shield she had, as shadows rained down and claws tore at the air.

Calen lunged for the fire. He seized a burning branch, swinging wildly. Screechers dove, claws snapping. He caught one mid-swing and sent it spinning into the dark.

Jessa rushed to do the same, but a screecher clipped her arm, knocking her torch away. Spidery legs wrapped her waist, claws digging in. She gasped—and a burst of air erupted from her chest, blasting the thing backward into the flames. It burst apart with the stench of rot and scorched leather.

Still they came. The swarm blotted the sky, their cries like knives dragged across glass. Garin slammed his staff down. Shards of stone burst upward, impaling shrieking bodies that fell twitching to the forest floor. For each one felled, three more filled the air.

Something tangled in Wren’s horns. Wings rasped against her scalp, claws raking her skin. She dropped, arms over her head. A squeal, a crunch—hot liquid splattered her cheek as Orzen seized the thing bare-handed, slammed it to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.

“Fall back!” he roared, blood streaking his face.

Silas reloaded, loosing two more bolts. The air was still thick with wings. If they stayed, they’d drown beneath the swarm—buried in screeching bodies and grasping claws.

Jessa pressed along the rock wall, eyes flicking through the dark, then vanished around the corner. Calen called her name—the panic in his voice swallowed by the swarm.

A heartbeat later, Jessa shouted, “A cave!”

Branwynn didn’t hesitate. She bolted after Jessa, Tommick clinging to her like a second skin. Calen crushed one of the creatures against the rock with his club; it hit with a wet crunch. He followed.