The Storm Within the Storm

And while Victoria struggled, more of the Nightshade warriors burst from beneath the snow.

They erupted from the white ground like vengeful spirits, their blades already swinging before the Enclave warriors could even register their presence. The snow exploded around them, and the Enclave warriors shouted warnings that came too late.

“The scum are beneath the snow!” one warrior screamed, his voice high with panic.

He didn’t finish the sentence. A blade emerged from beneath him, piercing through his chest, and his body crumpled into the snow. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, dead before he even knew what had struck him.

“They’re everywhere!”

“Watch your feet!”

“I can’t—”

The warnings died as quickly as the warriors who shouted them. Each cry was cut short by steel or arrows, and the snow grew darker with blood.

The Nightshade warriors had prepared for this moment long before the Enclave ever crossed into the North. They knew the blizzard would make visibility almost impossible. They knew the terrain better. They knew where to hide, where to strike, and when to disappear again.

The Enclave had numbers.

Nightshade had preparation.

And at that moment, preparation was proving far more valuable.

Even far from Victoria, the Tidebreakers continued attacking the Enclave warriors. The massive beasts crashed through their ranks, their enormous bodies sending warriors flying. The warriors screamed as they tried to flee, but the beasts were faster, stronger, and driven by a hunger that made them nearly impossible to stop.

Victoria had managed to control the Virelops, but even that control had its limits.

The Virelops had a stronger desire for blood.

They would seek out the injured, ally or foe alike. They didn’t care who they attacked. If there was blood, they would find it.

They didn’t care.

One Virelop leapt onto a wounded Enclave warrior, sinking its teeth into his arm.

“Get it off me!”

The warrior swung his sword desperately, but another Virelop immediately rushed toward him.

Then an arrow pierced the first creature’s skull.

It dropped.

The warrior barely had time to breathe before the second Virelop attacked.

There was no distinction between friend and enemy anymore.

The battlefield had become a feeding ground.

A Gravehart suddenly burst through the trees.

Its massive antlers were lowered as it charged directly toward Micah, who had joined several other warriors in bringing down a Skylur.

Micah barely had time to turn.

The Gravehart thundered toward him, its hooves tearing through the snow.

An arrow flew through the air.

It struck the beast directly in the eye.

The Gravehart stumbled and Micah didn’t hesitate.

He moved forward, his axe swinging in a wide arc. The blade caught the beast across the neck, and with another powerful movement, he finished it, severing its head with a single clean swing.

The body collapsed heavily beside him.

—

Sophia and Brynhild, who had shifted back into human form, moved together through the chaos.

They were a blur of motion, their blades cutting through the air with deadly precision.

Brynhild’s swords moved like flashes of lightning against their enemies. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, as she carved through the Enclave warriors who dared to approach her.

She couldn’t see them.

She didn’t need to.

She could hear them.

Smell them.

Sense the fear radiating from them.

A wolf tried to attack her, believing the blizzard would conceal its approach. It moved silently through the snow, its jaws opening as it lunged.

Brynhild smiled.

She turned at precisely the right moment and drove one of her swords through its chest.

The blade pierced its heart and the wolf collapsed at her feet.

Brynhild barely glanced down before preparing to move again.

Another attacker lunged from the side.

But before she could react, a dagger flew through the air and embedded itself directly into the attacker’s head.

The body collapsed.

Brynhild’s smile widened.

Sophia was already moving toward her.

She reached the fallen attacker, pulled the dagger free, and turned in the same motion.

A Virelop was leaping toward them.

Sophia threw the dagger.

The weapon struck the beast in midair and the Virelop shrieked before crashing into the snow.

Brynhild didn’t even wait.

Another creature came charging from the trees, a massive hulking beast covered in thick, matted fur.

She stepped forward and drove her sword straight through its chest.

The creature collapsed.

The two women moved together again.

They shifted seamlessly between forms, their attacks coordinated and precise. When one moved forward, the other covered her back. When one was surrounded, the other appeared at her side. They didn’t need to call out to one another.

They simply knew.

It was as though they had been doing this for years.

As though they had been born to fight alongside one another.

—

Meanwhile, Daniel was surrounded by several Enclave warriors.

They circled him with their swords drawn, their eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

They had him outnumbered.

And they knew it.

One of them laughed.

“Do you really think someone with one hand can fight in a battle?”

Another warrior joined in.

“The northern warriors are so desperate they brought a cripple.”

The others laughed.

Daniel only stared at them.

Then he laughed too.

His laughter echoed through the storm, startling the warriors who had expected fear.

Their expressions shifted from amusement to confusion.

Daniel’s smile widened.

“This cripple has already taken down most of you.”

The warriors didn’t expect it but the nearest warrior barely had time to react before Daniel’s sword drove through his chest.

He pulled the blade free just as quickly, blood dripping from the weapon as he turned toward the others.

“If you doubt me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “you can see for yourselves.”

The warriors exchanged uneasy glances.

Their confidence had begun to disappear.

They had expected an easy kill.

They had expected a man with one hand to be a liability.

Instead, they were facing someone who had adapted to his limitations so thoroughly that they had become irrelevant.