After their passion beneath the stars faded into a satisfied hum, Jack rolled over and fell asleep. Kleo lay awake listening to his breathing, finding its steadiness comforting. She had tried to be discreet but knew their quiet moans, playing off the rock walls, had carried through the camp. It didn’t bother her. She would never hide her love for Jack. The world was unpredictable and cruel, but their love was a constant, burning brightly in the chaos. She would seize every moment with him and choose no other way to live.

  Kleo felt a new tension, something pulling at her, drawing from her core. It was an odd sensation, spasms of energy rising and falling, tracing from her center to the extremity of her limbs. It was her Kasad Shadoom trying to tell her something. Whatever it was, she was not interested. It was late, and the lub-dub pulse should soon return.

  As if manifested by her thoughts, it came to her insistent, steady, and strong. She had always listened to the pulse—if listen was the right word. Anxiety had kept her body taut and her mind apprehensive. After triangulating the signal, she felt more confident, at least understanding that the pulse was a beacon.

  Now, she relaxed, sinking into herself, pushing away the growing surges in her core. Her body listened, relaxing, so she opened her mind as the pulse washed over her.

  The change was initially subtle as the distant beat settled into her chest, its rhythm aligning with her heartbeat. The immersion grew, and warmth spread through her, finding and filling spaces within her that she hadn’t realized were empty.

  She stifled a gasp as pure and unfiltered joy radiated through her. It was a joy she couldn’t explain, a feeling of being held in a love so vast and so kind that it could never exist in this mortal world.

  The spell was broken when her thoughts turned to Jack. It reminded her of what he had experienced after his near-death battle with the Dark Witch—a benevolent presence that cradled him in peace and light. Was this the same force? The essence—nurturing and protecting—resembled what he described.

  She longed to wake him, to share it with him, though she knew no words could capture the enormity of it.

  With a sudden rush, her core swelled and shrank, waves crashing through her, energy ebbing then rolling back only to build again. Magic churned in her veins, too volatile to contain, and she clenched her teeth, fighting the pressure building in her limbs.

  Then she caught it—a scent. Sharp. Wet. Feral.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  What…? She sniffed again, instinct overriding thought. Something was approaching the riverbank, a hundred or more meters away. She could hear the quiet ripples where the water was disturbed and smell the familiar stench from that day in the woods. Goblins.

  How? Demana senses weren’t that precise. Marginally better than humans. Nothing like this.

  Another pulse surged from her core, shooting down her arms to her fingertips. Her hands trembled—twitching with fine, involuntary spasms. Heat climbed her neck and spread across her face like fire beneath her skin.

  Then came the shift.

  Her jaw ached. The bones within flexed and creaked, elongating and reshaping. She shut her eyes and bit back a gasp, pressing her palms into the dirt.

  No. Not here. Not in front of Jack.

  He lay only a few feet away, sound asleep, one hand half-curled toward her on the blanket. Maya and Will lay farther off, hopefully unaware.

  Panic clawed up her throat.

  If he wakes up—if he sees this—

  She was changing. Kasad Shadoom summoned her, and it would not be denied.

  Whatever she was becoming, whatever twisted scheme the Fates had bound her to—it wasn’t something she would do lying in the dark beside the boy she loved.

  She rose, fast and quiet, feet bare against the mossy ground. The scent from the river was more pungent now. Coming ashore. Waiting. Watching.

  She ran for the woods—away from the camp, away from Jack—chased by the rising heat in her chest and the terrifying truth swelling behind her ribs:

  She wasn’t herself anymore.

  She was something more. Something terrifying.

  Something the goblins would soon regret meeting.

  She ran faster than she should’ve been able to, her feet light against the ground. Trees blurred past her. The scent of something vile—iron, rot, sweat—hung thick in the air. Goblins. Getting closer.

  But it wasn’t fear that drove her.

  It was grief.

  And something else. Hunger. Not for food—for release.

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  Her knees buckled. She staggered to a stop in a clearing and dropped to all fours, panting, trembling.

  Then the pain came.

  It wasn’t like wounds or broken bones. This was inside her—bones shifting, skin tightening, muscles twisting as if trying to rip free of her frame. Her fingers spasmed, curling, nails sharpening. She clutched at the earth, dirt grinding under her palms.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps. The forest was too bright, too loud. Every heartbeat echoed like a drum in her ears. Every scent split into pieces—tree bark, wet skin, blood, metal.

  She was coming apart.

  Something ancient stirred inside her. Not only Kasad Shadoom—something deeper. A memory not her own. Rage. Pain. The unbearable weight of loss.

  She pressed her forehead to the ground, teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

  Not now. Not here. Not yet.

  But her body wasn’t listening.

  She screamed into the moss, low and broken. Her skin shimmered faintly—not glowing yet—but something beneath the surface, like light behind a veil, tried to break through.

  Then she smelled them.

  Goblins.

  Only steps away.

  And her pain, her terror—it vanished. Drowned beneath a flood of heat and fury.

  Her lips peeled back. Not a smile. Not even a snarl. A need.

  The need to hurt something.

  Jack jolted awake, his mind foggy, heart thudding for reasons he couldn’t name.

  He turned toward Kleo’s side of the bed.

  Empty.

  She must be using the bathroom. She always did after sex.

  He exhaled and let his head fall back, slipping toward sleep again when something tugged at the edge of his thoughts. A sound. A scream?

  He couldn’t tell if it had been real or part of a dream. Probably nothing. The woods were quiet. The fire still crackled.

  Still—Kleo wasn’t lying next to him.

  He sat up. Her pants still hung on the low branch nearby. She hadn’t gotten dressed.

  That wasn’t unusual, but panic still stirred in his chest.

  He kicked free of the blankets and pushed out of the tarp-covered entrance to the shelter, bare feet hitting cold ground. The fire still burned, low but steady. No sign of movement. No sound but the wind in the trees.

  He turned in a slow circle.

  She wouldn’t have gone far.

  “Kleo,” he whisper-shouted. “Kleo? Where are you?”

  Will burst from the tent, weapon in hand, Maya right behind him, bleary-eyed but alert.

  “Jack? What the hell’s going on?”

  “Kleo’s gone,” Jack said, pacing. “I woke up—startled—I swear I heard a scream.”

  Before anyone could respond, a thunderous crash echoed from the woods. Branches snapped. Brush splintered.

  All three froze.

  Jack’s eyes went wide. “That was her. We have to find her—now—”

  He lurched forward, but Will caught his arm.

  “Hang on—grab a weapon. And pants.”

  "Pants are optional, but get a weapon," Maya interjected.

  Will turned and gave her a look that said Seriously?

  "What?" Maya said. "It's been a while. A girl can look, can't she?"

  Will shook his head. "Not in front of me, if that's all right with you."

  Meanwhile, Jack stumbled, trying to pull his pants on mid-run, nearly tripping over himself.

  “For the love of—Jack, slow down,” Will barked. “You’re gonna stab yourself before we even find her.”

  Jack paused long enough to finish fumbling his laces together. He caught Maya’s gaze—still lingering—and leaned toward Will.

  "You need to handle that situation," he said, nodding at Maya.

  "Not now, Jack."

  "He's not wrong," Maya chimed in.

  Will groaned, exasperated, and they moved toward the river.

  The forest was thick with shadow as they crossed the main path, heading east toward the river. Jack conjured a glowing orb—one of the only spells he’d mastered—and swept it from side to side, casting pale light through the trees as they pushed forward.

  Shirtless and barefoot, Jack barreled through the underbrush, branches, and thorns raking across his skin. Scrapes and cuts showed across his arms and chest, but he didn’t slow down or even seem to feel them.

  Then they saw the first body.

  A goblin slumped across the base of a tree, head intact but mashed flat against its chest like something had gripped it in a vice. Blood painted the bark. Jack stumbled back, a flash of memory seizing him—Antonio, crushed in Morghadus’s grasp, turned to mist.

  Will scanned the scene, brow furrowed. “What do you think?”

  Maya knelt beside the body. “Something big. Strong. Maybe an ogre?”

  “That’s not good,” Will muttered.

  He examined the forest floor, then pointed to a set of disturbed brush and crushed leaves. “Trail leads this way.”

  They followed in silence, the weight of unease growing heavier with each step.

  In a clearing near the riverbank, they found two more goblins.

  One lay in pieces, torn at the waist, its yellow eyes wide with frozen terror. The other was propped against a tree, chest crushed inward like wet paper, its curved sword still clutched in limp fingers.

  They didn’t speak. No one had to—the air stank of blood, fear, and something wrong.

  Will moved ahead, tracking a streak of blood through the grass to the water’s edge. A goblin lay face-down in the mud, its head dragged meters from its body, claw marks tearing deep into its neck. Another floated nearby, face submerged, puncture wounds across its spine, blood painting the river red.

  Will crouched low, inspecting a massive footprint pressed into the mud, filling with pink-tinged water.

  He looked back at the others. “Not an ogre.”

  Maya joined him, squinting at the track. She said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes.

  “Whatever it is, it crossed the river,” Will said, standing. “So that’s where we’re going.”

  “Damn right we are,” Jack said, stepping into the current, eyes locked on the far shore.

  “Wait,” Maya raised a hand. “Dismiss the orb. If something’s watching, it’ll see us coming a mile away.”

  Jack hesitated. Every muscle in his body screamed move, but he nodded and dimmed the light. Maya whispered an incantation and a wave of cool magic passed over them.

  The world shifted.

  Shadows peeled back, replaced by sharp detail—rocks, trees, moonlight glints on water. The forest stood crystal clear, even in pitch black.

  “You’ve gotta teach me that,” Jack whispered. “It’s like daytime.”

  “Pretty cool, right?” Will said. “I knew a guy with a ring that did the same thing—and more. Let him see through walls, too.”

  Jack blinked. “You can enchant a ring?”

  Maya, ever the teacher, stepped in. “Sort of. It's not as easy as casting a spell onto an object. The magic and the material have to be crafted together. It’s a complex process, but the result is powerful.”

  With the night vision in place, they scanned the far shore.

  Will spotted something first—a body up the embankment. Then he pointed downstream. Another goblin floated in the river, caught on a log, limbs twisted and drifting.

  Jack’s stomach dropped. “What if that’s—what if it’s Kleo?”

  “It’s not,” Will said, squinting. “Too small. And the teeth—sharp. That’s a goblin.”

  Jack exhaled.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go. We’re losing time.”

  They stepped into the waist-deep water, the river swallowing the sound of their movement as they pushed toward the western bank—each of them praying they weren’t already too late.