To his astonishment, Raj Ahten groaned in pain, rolled in the grass. The impression of Orden’s boot lay stamped on the Wolf Lord’s shoulder.

The scapula had caved in. Raj Ahten’s right arm twisted at an unnatural angle. The flesh of his shoulder was pushed down six inches.

Raj Ahten lay in the grass, eyes glazed with pain. Blood frothed from his mouth. The Wolf Lord’s dark eyes and chiseled face were so beautiful in that moment, Orden marveled. He’d never seen the Wolf Lord so close, in all his glamour. It took Orden’s breath away.

“Serve me,” Raj Ahten whispered fervently.

In that second, Mendellas Draken Orden was swept away by the force of Raj Ahten’s glamour, and wished to serve him with his whole heart.

Then the second passed, and he grew frightened: for something moved beneath Raj Ahten’s armor; the shoulder settled and swelled, settled once again, as if years of inflammation and healing and pain all rolled into one infinite, heart-stopping moment. The shoulder finally grew to a bulbous hump.

Orden tried to roll to his feet, knowing the fight was not over.

Raj Ahten crawled after him, grasped Orden’s right arm by the wrist, and smashed his helm into Orden’s own shoulder, so hard that the helm was jarred loose from Raj Ahten’s head.

Bones shattered all along Orden’s arm, and he cried out. He writhed on the ground, his right leg a ruin, his arm and shoulder useless.

Raj Ahten backed away, stood gasping for breath. “It is a shame, King Orden. You should have taken more stamina. My bones are already fully healed. How many days will it be until you can say the same?” He kicked hard, snapping Orden’s good leg. Orden collapsed to the ground, on his back.

“Where are my forcibles?” Raj Ahten said calmly.

Orden gave no answer.

Raj Ahten kicked King Orden in the face.

Blood spurted from Orden’s right eye, and he felt it hanging against his cheek. Orden fell to the ground in a near faint, and covered his face with his good hand. Raj Ahten kicked his unprotected ribs. Something tore loose inside, and Orden began coughing, spewing flecks of blood.

“I’ll kill you!” King Orden spat. “I swear it!”

It was a vain threat. Orden couldn’t fight back. He needed to die. Needed Raj Ahten to kill him so the serpent ring would break and another warrior could fight in his stead.

King Orden began to cough; he could hardly breathe in air so thick, so liquid. Raj Ahten kicked his ribs again, so that Orden lay gasping.