My heartbeat kicks up into a harder rhythm as I look at the huge young man carrying the front of my net, his armor formed from dark plates of bark. Branch antlers grow from his head, his long green hair tied up, his ears rising in sharp points. A green-glowing staff is strapped to his back and a massive black bear lumbers beside him.

A petite young woman walks on his other side, a flowering plant covering this soldier’s head where hair would usually be, blossoming vines encircling her slender arms. Her movements are graceful as a dancer and she holds a branch aloft, a puff of emerald light floating above it. A branch bow and a quiver are strapped to her back, and even in my wretched state, when she turns to glance at me with a look of wary concern, her fantastical beauty momentarily captivates me.

My demonic gaze is forced back to her branch bow, Vogel’s cruel attention tightening on it and my wand hand flexes of its own accord beneath my bindings.

My pulse quickens further.

Footsteps sound to my left and I turn my head a fraction as a rangy young Dryad strides into view. He radiates intensity, like hot oil crackling in a pan. He doesn’t look at me. His harsh, masculine face is set straight ahead with an expression of fervent purpose. His forest green skin is coated with a patina of deep-green glimmer, his pine-bough hair gathered behind his back, compact branch horns growing from his scalp. His bark-plate armor is fashioned from thick, pressed leaves that seem melted together. A crossbow hewn from irregular wood hangs from his back and a variety of branches are sheathed at his waist, each imbued with a deep-green glow. His severe demeanor and potent aura of elemental power sends a chill down my spine.

Vogel’s entrenched power digs deeper, gouging painfully into my lines, a rasping cough forced from my throat. The Shadow...it’s so strong. Coursing through me as if it were never driven out. As if Lukas, Yvan, and I had never fought back against him at all.

The memory of the triumphant look on Lukas’s face before he blew up the mountain and himself to save the realm grips hold of my mind, grief seizing my throat with choking force as the terrible thought breaks through—

Everyone’s sacrifices will be meaningless if Vogel regains hold of me.

Devastation crushes my chest, the nightmare of Vogel forcing me to impale Yvan’s wings accosting me. How I mercilessly pinioned him, the fire stripped from his eyes as he plummeted toward the Shadow tide, his shredded wings fanning out like ripped cloth.