Rowan’s POVThe wind ruled the cliff and It screamed through the ravine like a living thing, tearing at our cloaks, rattling the armors and clawing at the ropes and planks as if the mountain itself wished to devour us.“Take everything off the wagon,” I ordered again, louder this time. “Crates, barrels, spare steel and leave nothing that is not flesh or fate.”The men obeyed at once and began disposing the supplies onto stone,stack the armor pieces and water skins rolled dangerously close to the edge before someone lunged to catch them. Even the spare shields were stripped away.The wagon looked naked without its burden.But still heavy and dangerous.I dismounted and handed my reins to Thomas.“I’ll guide from the front,” I said. “Alden you are with me.”Alden hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, his face was pale but resolved.We looped thick ropes around the wagon axle, fastening them to posts hammered into the stone and to the arms of every knight strong enough to stan

Rowan’s POVThe fog around thickened as night claimed the forest making it hard to see the front.“Closer,” I ordered as the men finished pitching the tents. “Pull them tight like fires in a ring with no gaps.”The bonfires flared to life one by one, their light trembling against the fog. Shadows stretched and twisted across armor and bark, turning every stump into a crouching beast. The horses were tied in a tight cluster, snorting and stamping nervously with the whites of their eyes showing.I double watch.Triple, if I could spare it.The wagon was dragged to the center of the camp like a cursed altar and the chains rattled softly as it settled.The howls and noises had faded for now, but their echo still crawled beneath my skin.When the men finally stopped talking, exhaustion dragging them toward uneasy rest, I took a torch from the nearest fire and turned toward the wagon.I did not know why my feet carried me there.Perhaps because Alden’s pale face still haunted me or because

Rowan’s POVThe scream tore through the forest like a blade dragged across bone.“TRUMAN!”I twisted in the wagon seat just in time to see him fall from his horse. The animal reared in terror, then bolted riderless into the fog. Truman hit the ground hard, his wounded leg buckling beneath him.He tried to run but he couldn’t.He kept stumbling forward, dragging his injured leg,his breath coming out in wet, panicked gasps as the wolves fanned out around him in a widening circle.Red eyes.Too many.They didn’t rush him.They played with him instead.“Help!” Truman screamed, turning in place, spinning wildly as their huge shapes moved in the mist.He tore a small knife from his belt,nothing more than a pocket blade and raised it with shaking hands.“Stay back!” he cried with his voice cracking. “Stay back!”The wolves answered with low, rumbling snarls.I hauled the reins back hard.“Stop!” I shouted.The wagon lurched violently as the horses screamed in protest.The men shouted behind m

Rowan’s POVFor a heartbeat, none of us moved.“And deliver us from evil.”The priest turned slowly, his eyes wide and wet. I felt Alden stiffen beside me. Hoseman’s hand went to his axe.“There,” Thomas whispered, pointing toward the altar.From the shadows behind it, a shape shifted.A man.Or what was left of one.He lay half-slumped against the stone with his robes clinging to a body reduced to angles and bone. His chest rose in shallow, uneven jerks, each breath sounding like it scraped his lungs raw on the way out. His skin was waxy, stretched tight over his skull, veins dark and swollen beneath it,he was barely alive.“My God,” the priest breathed and ran forward, dropping to his knees beside him. “Brother… brother, can you hear me?”The monk’s eyes fluttered open.They were clouded, unfocused, yet they found the priest’s face with desperate intent. His lips moved, but no sound came at first only a wet rasp.The priest leaned closer, pressing his ear near the man’s mouth, whisp

Rowan’s POVShe smiled.Not the wide, mocking smile she had worn so often but the feral grin of the demon revealed as if this moment had always belonged to her.“And now,” she said softly, fingers brushing the spine of the Book of Solomon, “you have brought me exactly what I wanted.”“Priest,” I barked without looking away from her. “Begin. Now.”He didn’t hesitate.He raised the book with trembling hands, blood still seeping through the cloth wrapped around his ruined palm, and shouted“Adioro rote sempe sam!”The demon recoiled as if struck.“ARGGHHH!” she snarled, her voice splitting, layered with something deeper and older. “Silence!”She slammed her foot into the stone.The library screamed.Shelves tore loose from the walls and came crashing down in avalanches of wood and parchment.“WATCH OUT!” Alden shouted.We scattered as beams splintered and books rained from above, thick tomes striking the ground with bone-breaking force. Dust choked the air and fiire leapt suddenly from s