THUD, THUD, THUD.

  The ground quaked with each thunderous step of the approaching titan. It moved like the mountain had come alive.

  THUD, THUD, THUD.

  Each step caused dirt to hop around our feet. Laska stood at the front of us, assessing the incoming threat, then spun around to bark orders.

  “Al, you’re with me. Captain, you handle the incoming wyrms. And the rest of you,” she snapped, turning to face our group of nine, “I need five volunteers. Move fast, no hesitation!”

  Her hand went to a rope coiled opposite her sheathed sword. Al tossed over his and Hopsander’s packs, which she quickly dug in to grab more rope and then threw them aside to make space.

  THUD, THUD, THUD.

  I took a breath and started forward.

  Time to prove myself. Ready, Fern?

  But before Fern could respond, a wide, clammy hand yanked me back. Hopsander’s mucous-coated fingers made my skin crawl.

  “You stick with me, lad. I have plans for you.” His tone was oddly cheerful. He led me several paces from the group while a few of the others volunteered to go with Laska. I felt a twinge of disappointment, but Hopsander’s presence was compelling.

  He drew a line of white pillardust on the ground between Laska’s squad and us. Then he walked farther away from them and began stamping his feet on the ground. I frowned. “Uh . . . Captain, what’re you doing?”

  “When the Grootslang wakes up, the wyrms come out to help catch its prey,” Hopsander croaked, pulling out his rope dart as he continued to slam his feet onto the ground. “So, you and I are gonna go on a little wyrm hunt, stir things up and distract them while the sergeant works on her plan.” He gave me a wink. “I need you because, well, something about you has intrigued me since the inn. I have a hypothesis I want to test to see if I’m right.” He began swinging the dart slowly; it hummed with a metallic pitch.

  I took a wary step back. “I—I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t run. We’re about to be appetizers.” Hopsander grinned widely. “Go ahead—grab your weapon, lad. They’re coming.”

  My heart pounded. “You knew about this?” My hand slid under my tunic to Lightcutter’s hilt. I pulled it free from its sheath and lifted it out from under my shirt. The long dagger glimmered in the bright sun.

  Hopsander nodded excitedly, noticing the shimmer of wyrmsteel. “Hah, even better! Some genuine wyrmsteel for the wyrm hunt! Ah! I do like the look of this year’s recruits already. Enough talk. Focus up, lad—look.”

  He peered at the ground with a squint. A loud hum built up from the rope dart’s spin. I glanced around, feeling vibrations underfoot that couldn’t be from the Grootslang. Something was burrowing below.

  “Here they come!” Hopsander said, voice rising with excitement. “Now’s your test, lad. Channel that inner beast of yours and feel the rush!” He whirled the dart faster, the hum growing sharp.

  Suddenly, the dirt opened up into dozens of melon-sized holes. A shrill, grating noise, like a hundred tiny nails climbing on chalkboards, scraped at my eardrums.

  I nearly dropped Lightcutter at the piercing sound. A swarm of three-foot-long centipede-like insects emerged. Their glossy brown shells shifted unsettlingly as their countless legs crawled out of the holes. Four razor pincers jutted from each of their mouths, snapping eagerly. They targeted us at once, climbing over each other to rip us apart.

  ‘What do we do?!’ Fern’s panicked voice filled my mind.

  My body froze, and my legs tensed up, refusing to move. A hissing insect scuttled closer, pincers aiming for my feet.

  TWEEEE!

  Hopsander’s rope dart shrieked overhead, smashing into the charging bugs. Their shells splintered, green viscera spraying the air. He killed seven of them in a blur.

  That jolt shattered my paralysis. I regained my breath and shook my head.

  “You sure you need me here?” I muttered, brushing bug guts off my pants.

  “These crawlies work with the big one,” Hopsander explained, eyes flicking to the distant Grootslang’s silhouette.

  THUD, THUD, THUD.

  “They swarm in the hundreds to slow us down. Then big mama over there comes over and crushes us. Afterward, she sucks us up like honey. More are coming soon, and we have to thin them out while the sergeant works. Don’t freeze up. I believe in you, lad. Now, what did I tell you to do? Channel that inner beast!” His bulbous eyes sparkled with confidence.

  Focus on the pain, not the fear, I thought, pinching my thumb to center myself. I took a deep breath and focused on the holes and the vibrations beneath my feet. I can do this.

  For a heartbeat, I pictured a video game scenario: wave after wave of nasty mobs with cooldown periods in between.

  They have to be coming soon . . . but when? I thought, staring into the holes. Then I remembered my vow to protect Fern and the others. I looked over my shoulder and saw Mel and Tevin leading the charge of volunteers. Mel looked like a wild pixie with fiery hair as she leaped over boulders and tied the ropes around them. Tevin on the other hand was using his big body to help roll the boulders together.

  ‘What the hell is Laska’s plan?’ Fern asked.

  Don’t worry about it, I said, bringing my attention back to the holes. Focus. Breathe. In . . . out.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I clenched my teeth, inhaled through my nose, and felt my muscles coil with new energy. Sparkling tingles filled my head, and then it was like someone had turned on a switch. The world felt sharper. My mind felt . . . clearer.

  What . . . is this? I thought as every nerve on my body began to vibrate. My veins began to pulse stronger than ever. My blood became hotter, and beneath my skin, bones, and organs, I felt a swirling sensation.

  Hopsander laughed. “That’s it! Focus on that feeling, really lean into it. Get ready for the wyrms, and when the time is right . . . release it!”

  His rope dart whistled, and the wyrms began to emerge from their tunnels. I burst into motion, dust exploding behind me as I pushed off my back foot. Strength surged in every movement. Whatever had happened to me, I didn’t care about the how or why. I only cared about how I could use it.

  The first wyrm lunged, but Lightcutter cut through its carapace like paper. Sticky fluid spattered my arm, yet I kept going.

  Another scuttled at me from the right. I sidestepped, slashing across its side. Its shell shattered with a crack. More lunged, but time seemed to slow. My body’s movement felt so fluid and filled with intention. I didn’t hesitate a single step as I weaved through the leaping creatures.

  Hopsander’s dart soared overhead, colliding with insects in wet explosions. We must’ve slaughtered over fifty of them, but more kept emerging from subterranean hives. My heart pounded, yet each strike grew steadier.

  Then Laska’s voice rang out: “Captain! We’re ready! Fall back—now!”

  Hopsander leaped over to me, grabbed the back of my tunic, and we bounded away from the insect swarm in a long, powerful jump, landing heavily near the others. I stumbled before catching myself. I looked back and saw how the wyrms tried to follow us but stopped near the line of pillardust.

  ‘Stupid bugs don’t know they could just go around,’ Fern said.

  Don’t give them any ideas, man! I thought.

  Al was already atop Gora, now armed with her new spikes, tying a large boulder to her harness. Tevin helped him secure it, brow furrowed.

  “What’s with the boulder?” I asked Silas, stepping up beside him. I was still dripping with green ichor.

  Silas grimaced at my stench, pressing a hand to his nose. “Ugh, you stink. It’s not a real boulder. It’s an old, discarded titan-beetle shell. Al and Gora will draw the Grootslang away by dragging it. They’re . . . basically bait.”

  “A quick meal you could say,” Hopsander said from behind, wiping bug gore off himself and slipping it into his mouth, smiling.

  Silas swallowed, looking nervous. “They’ll be all right, yeah?”

  “They have to be.” My voice trembled slightly. I wanted to believe it.

  Before anyone could comment further, Mel demanded, “So, can’t we just go kill that thing?” She held up her hand wearing her razor-finger gauntlet in a fist. The girl was looking for a fight. “Aren’t Cinders the best at monster slaying? That looks like a pretty big monster to me!”

  Laska paid Mel no attention. “No questions, people, we need to get ready to leave,” she said curtly, then turned to Al, offering a salute.

  “Don’t wait for me, my friends!” Al hollered. “Gora and I will lead Ms. Grumpy Groot on a wild beetle chase. She will think she is getting four tasty beetles!” He gave a cocky grin and banged on a metal plate to get the approaching Grootslang’s attention. Goro rumbled softly, wanting to follow, but Al waved him away. “Take care of the eggs first, buddy. Stay with Laska.”

  Goro let out a sad trill, antennae drooping, but remained.

  Standing tall, Laska addressed us, voice resonating with authority. “Sometimes we kill, sometimes we don’t. The Grootslang’s a guardian of this desert. She’s crucial for protecting Ash. Without her, goblins, monstrous hordes, or mageblood armies, if they could pass the barrier, could invade. Not every beast deserves to die. Now we run.”

  I exhaled relief, sheathing Lightcutter. An electric hum lingered in my muscles from the fight, and a pulsating, swirling feeling danced in my head, but I ignored those sensations and forced my feet to move. Laska led us straight ahead while Al and Gora diverged south. Sure enough, the Grootslang swerved after the decoy. The plan was working—until its massive tail swung near us as it turned.

  “Get down!” Laska yelled.

  I dove behind Hopsander, arms shielding my head. The Grootslang’s tail scraped a nearby hill in a deafening crash of stone. Sharp rocks rained down. Painful cries echoed as some of the teens were pummeled by debris.

  When the dust settled, the beast was gone—still focused on Al, chasing him far in the distance. We rose, coughing. Silas’s screams pierced the chaos. My stomach dropped. Ten yards away, a large rock pinned his arm. Dark red spread across his short-sleeved tunic, unstoppable blood draining from his pinned limb.

  Silas thrashed, trying to yank free. Another shriek tore from him as he twisted. His forearm snapped loose with a nauseating squelch. I nearly vomited at the sight of severed flesh but forced it down and ran over to him. Silas was in shock, and his body was shaking. It was unnerving, but I bent down to put a hand on his back.

  “Help me!” he wailed. “Help, help, help! Oh gods!” he cried as he curled around his bleeding stump. Dust and tears streaked his face.

  Hopsander ran up next to me, and I held Silas down as the frog-man quickly poured pillardust on the fresh wound. Silas howled in agony when the white powder touched his flesh, then he passed out. The bleeding stopped almost instantly, and the wound even closed within seconds. It was like watching a medical miracle happen. The frog-man hoisted him onto his shoulder. “He’ll live, he’s just gotta be carried for a little,” he said gruffly.

  Everyone stared at Silas, horrified. The severed hand lay half buried in the rubble. Then we ran again, adrenaline fueling us. I pressed my lips tight, following Hopsander’s long strides and watching Silas dangle off his shoulder, passed out. The sunlight glinted off boulders and broken ground. The Grootslang’s roars thundered in the distance as it chased Al and Gora, but we had to keep moving. We had to believe they would be okay.

  We reached a cramped mountain pass after about twenty more minutes of running. With the sun sinking low, Laska finally called for a stop. Gasping for breath, we flopped onto the rocky ground. Another abandoned campsite showed us a blackened firepit.

  Hopsander eased Silas against the stone wall and forced water down his throat. The rest of us formed a loose circle as Laska built a small fire. Our rationed water and meager food tasted like ambrosia. Even the toughest among us—like Mel—slumped in exhaustion.

  I sipped water and studied the faces around me. Everyone was battered, dusty, and silent. My gaze drifted to Laska, whose stance looked a bit ragged. Fern’s voice nudged my mind.

  ‘She’s probably worried about Al. They’re teammates.’

  Makes sense, I agreed. Then I glanced at Silas. He slept fitfully, his arm now a stump. He’ll be okay if he keeps fighting, I told Fern.

  “What . . . are those?” Sora, one of the twins, asked suddenly, pointing at the rock wall above Silas. In the firelight, faint images were painted across the stone.

  I blinked. How hadn’t I noticed them? Four large figures, each in a different color—green, red, yellow, and white. They looked vaguely humanoid, with extra limbs and jagged shapes.

  “Ahem,” Laska said, chewing her jerky, “I guess it’s time for your first history lesson of Ash.” She paused to swig water, then continued. “Baldred’s Pillar protects the land around it. This includes the Academy of Ash, the Mountains of Ash, and the Dark Woods. A massive barrier extends a hundred miles around the pillar, powered by who knows what, incinerating any mageblood who tries to enter. So, because we have access to the pillar, we have a sort of . . . agreement with Stylos’s king. He lets us run things inside the barrier, like he really has any choice, and we provide him with a small army to fight in his expeditions.”

  She shrugged. “Call it ancient tech or nature, we don’t fully know. But the pillar doesn’t let magic inside. It’s sort of our shield against the magebloods. Without it, they would come in and take over the pillar and rule this land too. Aside from the barrier, another element protecting the pillar are these four beings.” She pointed to each painted figure. “They come down from the pillar, one each season, to patrol. If any foreign magic tries to breach the barrier, they hunt it. They’re a final line of defense.”

  “What if we run into one?” I asked quietly. “Are they strong?”

  Laska snorted, swallowing another bite of jerky. “They’d flatten us. Takes a hundred Cinders to beat just one. So if we see them . . .” She shrugged. “If you can run faster than everyone else, run. If not, pray, I guess.”