“Tell your pet to stop burning the Hollows, you idiot!” the man roared up at the sky. “You’ll burn everything!”

The Dark asha heard him. The zarich stomped forward and took a deep gargle of air. Mist formed around my mouth even as the cold extended into the mountain, containing the conflagration for the moment.

But her brother was far from done. He leaped off Chief and sliced his way through the rest of the Drychta. His eyes were on the savul, still on its rampage. He cut down the remaining blighted—and drove his sword into the daeva, bloodying its shin.

Its roar was one of surprise. For a moment, it seemed recognition blazed behind its yellow, bulging eyes. Its maimed claw, after all, had been responsible for the man’s death. Still caught in its bloodlust, the daeva swung at him. Lord Fox did nothing to deter the attack. Its talon slashed through his chest.

Both reeled back unexpectedly. The savul shrilled from some invisible pain. The undead general sank to the ground with his hand over his lacerated chest and his mouth pulled back in a snarl, gulping air he did not require. From above, the azi’s reaction was immediate. It landed beside the savul, stumbling in its haste. The first to jump off its back was Lord Kalen, slamming his blade against a blighted Drychta’s unprotected side when it ventured near.

“Fox!” She had changed much since the last time I had seen her. Her hair streamed behind her like the night, clothed in the hua of three dragons she had worn at our first meeting, dark eyes still a mystery, but her cheeks had hollowed and her skin had lost some of its luster. An unspoken thought passed between her and Fox, between her and Kalen, between her and her daeva—and both savul and azi turned to protect the three, snapping and clawing at the dwindling Drychta still putting up a fight.

“You did it on purpose,” she seethed, her voice cutting deeper than the Deathseeker’s knives of wind.

Lord Fox smiled grimly before the azi obscured them from my view.

I don’t remember how long the battle lasted. I cowered behind the Deathseekers as they wove rune after rune after rune, blanketing the sky with barriers invisible to my eyes. Occasionally, I caught sight of a flare of debris when it came into contact with those magical shields, the way a sword’s tip might drag against another blade and send up sparks. I huddled with the wounded and injured, scrabbling to bring them closer to the blockade the Odalians had erected, hoping that no wayward rune or daeva attack would find us. I could no longer see the trio; the azi and the savul still blocked my sight, snapping and slicing at anyone or anything that drew too close.