“What is it, Brax?” I whisper. His eyes gleam in the moonlight, and he bucks his head. Now I hear it too—one of my men, Klark, crying for help.

I hoist myself into my saddle, kick lightly, and we head in the direction of the cry. “What is it?” I shout. “State your position, Klark! Is it Verdanian troops?”

A shrill shriek of wind whips through the trees. More silence.

“Braze! Help!” Another desperate cry, this time Franden, but from a different direction. I pull on the reins, and Brax trots in a tight, confused circle.

“Franden!” I yell, recognizing the voice. “Where are you? What do you see?!”

Again, silence. A nasty chill lances up my spine.

If it were Verdanian troops or bandits, I would’ve heard something. Anything.

But the silence is too loud. Too strange. I bring my thumb and finger to my mouth and send a loud whistle into the night. Furthest from me but still in sight, Regan, a young woman of nineteen, draws her blade and faces the trees.

“Can you see anything?” I cry, but she doesn’t respond. Her sword is shaking, and she turns quickly to face the rest of us and screams. Before the echo of her scream ends, an inky pall of mist rolls over her and engulfs her in its darkness, then spits out her bloody limbs from its sable mouth.

My heart drops. This is no enemy we’ve ever faced. “Retreat to camp! Go, now!” I command. Whatever is here, in the thick of the Florian Wood, we have no business introducing ourselves.

“What about Franden and Klark?” Godie shouts as he mounts.

“Whatever that is, it’s already claimed them. If we search for them, it will surely take us next.” I sigh heavily, then clench my jaw.

Godie’s shoulders droop, but he nods and kicks his steed’s sides. Marian joins him, and they gallop away from Regan’s body and towards a break in the trees.

I follow and swoop my head back to see what’s left of our band. Four or five riders appear on the rutted path. Leaning down to Braxton’s ear, I instruct softly, “Fly.”

His hooves kick up dirt as we race towards camp. Braxton passes Godie and Marian with ease. Together, we’ll guide the others back to the camp.

I slip an arrow from my quiver and turn in the saddle. With one swift pull, I release it into the menacing blight. My panic rises as the black haze splits the iron tip from the wood. What sorcery breathes in these woods? We were warned, and I’ve seen what the gods can do, but this black shroud of evil is something I can’t comprehend.

Desperate screams pierce the air as the mist rips apart another rider. I don’t look back. I force myself to focus only on what lies ahead.

We finally break through the trees, and across the clearing, I see our camp’s flickering fire. Torrent’s massive body plows towards us; the wind flings away his shouts. Lin is close behind him. He fires one of his bolts, and watching his reaction, I know he’s seen it destroyed by the malevolent force behind me. I drop my reins and wave my arms as Torrent continues to charge. The bastard believes he can take on whatever this is with his bare fists.