The fiend is sharpening its claws.

Without the orb, darkness enshrouded her. She pressed her back against the basalt rock, her sword wavering as she peered into the darkened center of the circle. How did one see something made of shadows?

In the center of the stones, something whirled—tendrils of black on a phantom wind, deeper and darker than the night sky. Please let me get through this.

From two feet above her head, yellow eyes flickered into existence, as large as dinner plates. Panic inched up her spine. The fiend was at least eight feet tall. Following the eyes, its body shimmered into view, shoulders as broad as a ringstone.

A wave of fear slammed into her. Sure, she knew how to swing a blade, but did she know how to fight a giant?

She clutched the sword, pulse racing as the fiend lurched forward. It balanced on the knuckles of a long arm, like a monstrous gorilla. She readied herself for its attack.

It lunged, swiping at her with a clawed hand. She dove to the side, slashing upward, but the blade cut only air. Scrambling to her feet, she searched frantically for the monster, but it was gone.

Bollocks bollocks bollocks. It had only feinted to draw her away from the safety of the stone. She whipped her head around, searching for her opponent—but not fast enough. The creature’s arm flew from the darkness behind her, slamming into her side like a cudgel.

The sound of her arm and ribs snapping cracked through the air, and she was lifted off her feet. She slammed into the frozen earth next to one of the blue stones, and pain shot through her like a white-hot knife. She screamed.

A wet, guttural sound drowned out her cries. Laughter.

Agony pulled her apart. I can’t die here. I can’t die alone, not knowing who I really am. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself to her feet, lifting her sword. The monster had smashed her left arm, and something warm and metallic dripped from her mouth. Blood.

She turned her head toward a movement. The fiend was creeping into the circle again, eyes blazing yellow.

She glared back, her jaw set tight. If I’m going to die tonight, it’s going to be on my terms. She slashed at its ribs, but despite its enormous size the shadow stalker dodged easily. Fighting this thing was like trying to grip a plume of smoke.

A third option, Kester had called it, but this trial was just a slow and terrifying execution. The moor fiend was toying with her. Kester was probably enjoying every minute of it. He’d sacrificed her to this monster, before she’d even come to grips with the existence of magic.