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Chapters (68)
  1. Dedication
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. THREE MONTHS LATER
  4. PART ONE ORDER
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. PART TWO DISCORD
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. PART THREE ROOTS
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. PART FOUR SPLINTER
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

For a split second, no one moves. Frozen in disbelief, I think. A Shadowborn, here?

Another growl, this time followed by a high, nightmarish howl, one I’m now very familiar with.

Hellhound.

13

WHILE EVERYONE SPRINGS into action, I’m frozen, trembling. I thought they were rare. Thought, for some reason, that I wouldn’t see another one. Not when I was with the Legendborn like this. Not while just looking for information. I thought this was a ritual. Initiation. Hazing, at best, not—

Davis fires off orders in rapid succession, and it’s like a bomb goes off in the crowd. “Awakened Scions and Squires to the front! The rest in formation behind them. Pages, back to the Lodge!” Stillness explodes into action, and bodies scatter in several directions at once. Soldiers rushing to battle positions.

The next moments seem to pass in slow motion.

The Legendborn toss their robes off without hesitation and move with practiced, military precision into two defensive rows. Five stand at the back, pulling out weapons from harnesses, scabbards, and hidden straps: daggers, extendable quarterstaffs, and swords. Sarah and Tor string identical bows. Only three unarmed kids move to the front: the gentle-faced boy who saluted Nick in the foyer; Fitz; and a tall boy with red hair. I squint, trying to make out the red-haired boy’s face, because something about him is familiar. When he turns his head, I realize it’s because I know him. He’s Evan Cooper, Charlotte’s boyfriend.

The primitive part of my brain pleads with me to run to the Lodge with the others as fast as I can, but I can’t look away from the three Legendborn boldly facing the darkness, empty hands thrust out at their sides. What are they thinking? Where are their weapons?

With the whooshing sound of a backdraft, mage flame appears in each of the three boys’ palms. It circles in a smoky whirlpool, then climbs up their arms like iridescent snakes. In between one second and the next, the aether solidifies into weapons in their hands. Fitz and Evan hold identical shining swords. The gentle-faced boy holds two glowing daggers the length of my forearms. But the mage flame climbing their bodies isn’t done. I watch, breathless, as it flows over their shoulders and legs, solidifying into gleaming plates of silver. Aether crawls up their throats and falls across their sternums until it becomes chainmail. On their arms, the smoke hardens into terrifying gauntlets.

Armor. Aether armor.

From the opposite direction, another howl rises. My blood runs cold. Not just one hellhound, but two?

“Split formation!” Davis yells. The boy with the daggers dashes to the other side of the Chapel, calling for three other Legendborn to follow.