She glanced sideways. “For what?”
“Why the scary old warhound didn’t saddle up with us.”
Seraphine didn’t answer immediately.
Cassian smirked. “Let me guess. Daddy said no.”
She halted abruptly.
The rest of the squad moved ahead, trained enough to keep formation while she dealt with whatever fresh irritation Veyne had decided to stir.
She turned to him slowly, the morning sun flashing off her whitefire glaive.
“He stayed behind because he’s sworn to House Drakar, not to me,” she said coolly. “And this mission... isn't a House affair. It’s a death sentence.”
Cassian’s grin faltered—just for a flicker.
“Didn’t peg you for sentimental.”
“I’m not.” She adjusted her pack, voice flat. “I’m practical. Torren’s better off alive.”
“Some might say the same about you.”
“Some might be fools.” She started walking again.
It all happened so fast. They didn’t see the Hollowborn coming.
Theyfeltthem first—like the pressure in the air just before lightning strikes. The way the birds went quiet. The way Brann suddenly dropped mid-sentence and hissed, “Ward just cracked.”
Then it hit. The ground split.
Shadows spilled from beneath the roots of the trees—thin, elongated things that didn’t cast from anything real. Figures rose from the soil like puppets yanked from nightmares. Limbs too long, faces smeared like melted wax, eyes like starless pits.
Hollowborn.
Lira drew her blade with a roar and cleaved through the first one in a burst of goldfire. Alek disappeared—reappeared behind two others and slit their throats with daggers that didn’t gleam.
Seraphine dropped into stance, glaive spinning in her hands, her flames responding instantly.
She counted five.
No—seven.
Brann screamed.
One of the Hollowborn had slithered down from the canopy like a nightmare stitched from shadows. It dropped on him silently, limbs snapping out like spider legs, mouth stretching open with a grin so wide it split the entire face.
Seraphine barely registered the movement before Cassian was already moving.
Not running—charging.
His blade stayed strapped to his back. He didn’t need it.
Stormfire ignited across his arms in jagged lines, the power thrumming down his spine, wild and barely contained. He moved through the battlefield like a damned force of nature. Lightning laced with white-blue fire tore from his fists and lit up the undergrowth in blistering flashes.
The Hollowborn screeched, its skin bubbling and peeling under the arc of power. With a guttural roar, Cassian slammed his shoulder into the creature’s center mass and drove it back against a tree. Stormfire burst from his palms and incinerated it in a blaze so hot the bark charred black instantly. The thing disintegrated, limbs curling in on themselves, face melting into ash.
Brann scrambled back, eyes wide and soaked in terror. “Holy shit?—”
