Chapter 5-what he knew best

  Without wasting a breath, Ryn seized Lilia and Ariel by the hands. They sensed his unease, their hesitation brief before yielding to his grip. Together they stumbled as Ryn pulled them down the mountainside, scrambling for the path they had come from. But even as they moved, he knew it was too late.

  They had noticed it, so it had surely noticed them too.

  For a moment, he let himself believe escape might still be possible. Then he looked forward, his chest tightened.

  His eyes narrowed, and he almost let out a gasp.

  The creatures that had been miles behind now stood only a few feet away from the group.

  Dammit.

  This wasn’t a hollow. Its presence, its power, this thing was far above that rank. A forgotten beast maybe, perhaps worse.

  It didn’t make sense. This was supposed to be simple: guard the princess, keep her safe. Nothing more. The princess’s powers were dormant; she shouldn’t have been able to attract anything, and certainly not something this strong.

  Ryn attempted to turn sharply and run the other direction, but Lilia froze, rooted in terror with the creature looming only a few feet before her. Ariel stumbled into her, her footing lost, and in the chaos, all three went crashing down together, collapsing in a tangle across the grassy plain.

  Shit.

  Ryn was the first to get up, immediately unsheathing his sword from his hip, the steel flashing in the light. He planted himself between the abomination and the girls struggling to stand behind him.

  The creature lurched into view. At first glance, it had the shape of a wolf, lean and low to the ground, but its body wavered as though refusing to settle into one form. Its hide was not fur but a rippling darkness, threaded with jagged spines that caught the faintest light. Its legs bent too sharply at the joints, jerking in motions too sudden to be natural, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings.

  Its face was worse, its muzzle stretched far too wide, filled with mismatched teeth that jutted at every angle, some too long, some too short, as if stolen from different predators and jammed together. Its eyes glowed faintly gold, fractured like shattered glass, their light trembling across its face as though the sockets themselves were unstable.

  When it opened its mouth, the sound that followed wasn’t a growl but a broken echo of one, a rasping, hollow imitation that crawled under his skin.

  Ryn’s grip tightened on his sword. He didn't look back, though he could feel the girls’ breath quick and shallow behind him.

  His expression barely shifted, only the faintest hint of calm settling over him.

  The wolf-shadow crouched low, its limbs twitching like a broken marionette.

  Then, without warning, it lunged.

  The earth tore beneath its claws as it surged forward, faster than its jerking body should have allowed. A blur of black slammed against Ryn’s blade, the impact ringing out in a sharp metallic shriek. Ryn strengthened his grip and pushed his blade down, knocking the monster back. The force driving Ryn back half a step. His boots bit into the soil.

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  “Stay behind me,” he barked over his shoulder, his voice like iron.

  The aberration struck again and again, movements too erratic to read. Ryn parried, sidestepped, redirected, each impact rattling but not breaking him. Sparks scattered where steel kissed formless claws.

  The thing recoiled, circling with a jerky gait, eyes fractured gold and fixed entirely on him. Its head twitched in unnatural angles, searching for weakness in its prey.

  Ryn lowered his stance, blade steady, shoulders squared. His pulse held steady, unhurried.

  There were many ways an aberration could be born—broken vows, spawns of twisted hollow gods but from this one's feral and beastial nature, Ryn knew it was neither of those.

  Most likely, it was the spawn of a cursed relic, an artifact born from the silence left by the absence of their Sovereign God.

  Aberrations from relics tended to be more bestial, less thinking, driven by hunger and instinct rather than malice or purpose.

  That made things easier.

  If it behaved like a beast, it was no different from any other mindless thing—he’d cut it down like the rest.

  Without wasting another breath, Ryn surged forward, blade low and eyes locked on the creature.

  The ground blurred beneath his boots as he closed the distance. The aberration reacted with a guttural roar, its twisted frame lurching forward. Its limbs were far too long, bent in ways no beast's bones should bend, claws scraping gouges into the stone as it slashed at him.

  Ryn pivoted low, his blade flashing upward, sparks bursting where metal met claw. The impact rattled through his arms, but his stance held firm. He pressed in, forcing the abomination back a step.

  The creature swiped again, this time with terrifying speed. Ryn shifted his weight in a measured dodge, the beast's strike cutting through the air where his head had been.

  “Too slow,” Ryn muttered under his breath.

  He countered immediately, a precise slash across the beast’s forearm. Dark ichor hissed as it hit the ground, burning the grass beneath their feet.

  Ryns eyes narrowed

  ‘...it bleeds’

  The aberration howled, its eyes glowing like coals. It lunged again, this time with its entire weight. Ryn’s boots dug into the earth as he met it head-on, stance strong, blade braced, and the sound of steel and claw grinding echoing across the mountain plain.

  And then, he twisted, allowing the creature to fall off balance beside him. His sword slid free, carving a deep line across the creature's chest. It staggered back, enraged but wounded, black smoke rising from the gash.

  Ryn’s face remained neutral through it all.

  The aberration came back swinging with twice the fury, claws tearing trenches into the ground as it lunged.

  But at this point, the creature's movement had all but become predictable to him.

  Ryn shifted sideways, the motion sharp and practiced, his blade snapping out to meet the beast. It jerked back, but it was too late; the edge carved a deeper line across its torso. Black ichor sprayed again.

  The creature bellowed in pain, its roar shaking the air. Ryn didn’t give it the chance to recover. He advanced, strikes relentless, one, two, three cuts in succession, each aimed with surgical precision. The first grazed its thigh, the second opened its shoulder, the third nearly took a limb.

  Every swing of his sword was measured, deliberate. No wasted movement. No fear.

  The abomination lunged at him again, now more desperate, but Ryn caught its maw with the flat of his blade, knocking it aside before driving a boot into its chest. The impact sent the beast stumbling back a step, dirt scattering around its body.

  Ryn lowered his stance, irritation flickering as the creature refused to fall.

  The monster charged once more.

  Ryn merely sighed internally and readied his stance. His blade lowered, angled like a drawn breath, shoulders steady despite his exhaustion.

  So that’s how it is.

  Ryn knew this victory was imminent.

  The creature roared and charged again-

  -and then vanished.

  Oh-

  A flash of pain tore across his chest, hot and immediate. Blood spilled down his now cracked armor. The realization sank in; he had grown careless.

  He'd forgotten.

  This wasn’t just a beast.

  It was an aberration.