It was the maneuver she had hoped for. Inertia carried the beast of nightmares over her, inches from her sliding body as her sword made contact with some serpentine spine beneath its death-scented shadows. She felt the crunch of bone, and the creature careened to the side, pummeled from its trajectory by her blow. The strike had not killed it. No, the beseul didn’t even look wounded as it flew to the side. The creature hit the ground, then rose, howling with the force of a legion of demons as it loosed its bloodthirsty cry into the forest. Years of training had Amaris acting on instinct, back on her feet and ready with her defensive position.

That had been her only move.

She had no more tricks. No more advantages. Now, she would fight. If she was going to die, she would go down swinging. She blazoned her sword at her side, egging it on as she danced on the balls of her feet, urging the demon to make the next move. She raised her sword, tensing for impact as the creature lunged for her.

A sound cut the impact short.

Amaris flinched as the monster was knocked from its course by something. Rather, someone?

She stopped herself in the middle of a leap, unsure as to where her sword should land. Amaris forced her muscles to freeze in their descending arc.

Something new was in the forest. Her breath caught as she jerked her blade away at the last second. Someone had come for her. Panting a groan from the exertion, the man—Ash? No, it was neither of her companions—threw his own sword into play, and Amaris leapt to the side, flanking the creature without a second thought.

A flare of black, feathered wings blocked out her view of the moon. With the deafening beat of wings and rumble of thunder, a third party slammed into the earth. Enormous, crowlike wings blotted out the forest. It lifted a long, silver rapier overhead and slashed it toward the beseul. Together, they threw the power of three warriors at the ghoul. Now triangulated between the three of them, the gossamer terror was outnumbered.

She didn’t have time to appreciate the magnificence of their entrance or the relief that crashed over her.

The black-haired man took the finishing blow in the brief second it had taken the beseul to assess its opponents, severing the creature’s head from its body. The blow sent its loose, corpselike face spiraling for the earth with a final, wet scream. Its mouth continued gaping as its head disconnected from its neck, continuously animated despite its decapitation.

The fight was over nearly as soon as it had begun.

Amaris pulled in several ragged breaths as she struggled to adapt to the battle and its outcome.