“No!” I screamed.
I wrenched free of Talon’s hold, and I did not think, I simply surged forward, the grass tearing beneath my feet as terror overrode every instinct of self-preservation.
“Kaelia!” Talon’s shout was a roar behind me, but the witch had already turned.
Her head tilted with a bird-like curiosity, and the earth answered her. The soil beneath me shuddered—a subtle tremor that barely registered before it split open with a sickening crack. The scent of torn earth and rot burst upward, and something dark and barbed shot from the rupture.
I did not have time to move. A vine struck my waist like a whip, knocking the air from my lungs and wrapping tight in the same instant. Thorns punched through fabric and into flesh, sharp and merciless. Before I could claw at the constriction, another length of twisting green snapped upward to coil around my throat.
Pain exploded along my neck, my muscles straining against the stem as I angled my head to the witch.
Her eyes were glowing a sickly orange beneath her hood. “You made this so very easy.”
Spots swarmed the edges of my vision. I clawed at the bark, my nails tearing uselessly as the thorns embedded deeper, drawing warmth that slicked down my collarbone.
My hands dropped blindly to the satchel slamming against my hip as I kicked helplessly above the ground. My fingers fumbled against leather, slipping once, before plunging inside.
My fingertips struck metal as I seized the hilt of my silver knife and wrenched it free.
I forced my wrist upward between my chin and the crushing coil, driving the blade into the living wood. A shriek—high and unnatural—split the air as black sap erupted from the wound. It sprayed across my hand, hissing violently where it struck the grass below.
The vine spasmed, its grip faltering just enough for me to twist and strike at the stem around my waist.
I fell from midair, dropping to my knees on the damp grass with a ragged cough.
I began to crawl toward the front door, the wood a blurred shape in the distance, but another vine lashed out and caught my leg, dragging me back.
I scrabbled for my knife, which had slipped a few feet away, but a guard was already upon me, his silver sword raised to strike.
I crossed my arms over my head, shielding myself from a hit that never landed.
Talon lunged forward with a growl, his huge form blocking me from the guard’s view.
Shadows peeled away from his body, fracturing into predatory shapes that moved faster than the eye could follow. They slammed into the guard like living weapons, tearing the sword from his hands and striking him across the chest with enough force to send him flying back into the stone path.
Darkness surged from Talon’s skin in violent waves, spiraling in a vortex that tore at the grass and ripped loose stones from the earth. They coiled along his arms, lashed from his shoulders, and then exploded forward at his silent command.
The men did not have time to scream. They were struck mid-charge, lifted, flung, crushed. Bodies hit the ground with dull thuds, the yard transforming into a landscape of blood and scorched soil.
And still, Talon stood at the center of the carnage, unmoved.
His attention shifted, and the darkness followed. It recoiled from the corpses and redirected as one, racing low across the grass toward the witch in a writhing tide of black.
She did not flinch.
She sank slowly onto her heels, her skirts pooling around her as though she were settling in for a performance. Green light bloomed between her palms—a sickly glow that sharpened intoa violent blaze, carving her smile into something inhuman. She thrust her hands forward, and blinding beams erupted to collide with Talon’s shadows.
Grass ignited where magic devoured magic, shriveling into ash as the shockwave rolled outward, flattening everything in its path.
The vine around my leg constricted in response, grinding barbs into the bone.
I cried out, inching forward to grab the hilt of my knife. My fingers found the leather-wrapped hilt and I drove it into the neck of the plant.
“Die!” I cried out, burying the tip into the open wound of the plant again and again until it went limp and collapsed.
A second shriek—louder and more desperate—drew my eyes upward.
The witch was levitating, her green magic simmering uselessly between her fingers as she fought for air. Inky, spectral spirits had wrapped around her throat, their translucent forms cinched tight. Talon stood a few yards away, his hand raised, his fingers curling as if he were personally crushing the life out of her.