“One last mission, a formality,” Master Rhilnaam had said. “Go alone. Be back before the gathering and you’ll be a Watcher.”

  I sidestepped. The dagger skimmed my eye. I drove my blade through the bhor’s arm. It shrieked as the severed limb struck stone with a wet thud.

  “A formality?” I muttered. No escort, no oversight. This exceeded any final trial meant for a single blade.

  The creature writhed and dragged itself away. Black trails slicked the stone as sharp rocks tore at its belly. I followed it as the cave’s mouth vanished behind me, swallowed by dark. The monster slumped against the wall, chest heaving. Its eyes locked on mine, and the world narrowed. It writhed before me, my muscles tightened. I was the prey. I struck with one clean blow. No triumph, no roar. Just silence.

  I slowly advanced toward the darkness.

  “That smell…” It clawed at my lungs. It was not blood. Something from another age.

  The truth slammed into me: I wasn’t facing a stray bhor. Black shapes stirred in the shadows. My feet twitched, ready to betray me. Cries tore from the dark.

  A nest of mald.

  I spun, raising my shield. My knees folded and I caught the wall, fingers digging into stone. Whispers scratched at the edges of my thoughts; a shiver raced through me as I stepped back, shield still high. If they were like the monsters from the tales—the ones our fathers died to—my stomach dropped. I wouldn’t stand a chance, ripped apart by claws and beak. My grip tightened until the shield creaked.

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  I drew a breath and whispered an incantation.

  A ray of light curved into the dark, toward that foul, clinging scent. A heartbeat later—an arrow pierced my shield. Another hissed past my left ear. But I had seen what I needed. The mald seemed young—far younger than the ones I had studied. I darted in the narrow gap to my left, crouched low, and whispered, “Frhei'Larn.” The spell’s warmth crackled along my skin. I stepped out and two more arrows flew past me, both dropping midair deflected by the spell, but I was already moving.

  “Laksha'Rnas!”

  Light tore outward, peeling the dark off the walls like skin. The creature shrieked and dozens more rose to answer it. My blade tore through scales and flesh. The mald collapsed, dragging my sword down with its final scream. Then the stench rolled in from the tunnels—thick, choking. My head swam; the air wouldn’t come, every breath a struggle. Soon, I would be trapped. Surrounded. If I fell, no one would seal this cave and if even one of these creatures escaped the cave, the White Plains would be lost. The thought hit, cold, and a shiver ran down my spine. Had some already slipped past before I even entered?

  “Think.” The murmurs shredded my focus. Thoughts tangled and slipped through my grip. Every spell, every movement felt sluggish. I had to move. The entrance loomed ahead. I lunged forward, my legs burning, my breath ragged as claws scraped the stone behind me. Light slammed into my eyes the instant I burst through. For a heartbeat, I was blind. Cold wind cut through the fog in my head and I could think again. My vision cleared just enough.

  They crept into the cave. Sunlight made them stagger, but soon it would sink. Soon that edge would vanish. I had to act.

  I spoke one last incantation without a shred of doubt, “Phar'Fin!” The word left me raw. Magic tore through me, a firestorm I couldn’t contain. Every heartbeat hammered in my skull, each one fading and counted by the Order.

  The cave roared shut.

  I staggered back, vision swimming. Cool grass pressed into my cheek. Magic still thrummed in me. My fingers spasmed, refusing to close. I couldn’t move. Fear crept in where triumph should have been.