Chapter 84: Chapter 84: Their Deaths Feed The Old Blood
I flexed my leg after the healer finished. Pain flared hot but manageable. The pack moved around us with purpose, resetting defenses, carrying wounded to shelter, sharpening blades that had seen too much work. Their unity felt solid now, forged in these bloody hours by the river.
Later, when the rain eased to a drizzle, I found a quiet moment alone on a rocky shelf overlooking the water. The river had calmed somewhat, though it still carried evidence of the morning’s slaughter downstream. I pulled Lila’s little carved wolf from my pocket again and turned it over in my fingers. The wood had grown smooth, almost polished.
I thought about Thorne’s determined steps and Elara’s delighted squeals when they walked together. About Lila standing guard over them like a tiny sentinel. They were growing up in a world that wanted to consume them for power older than any of us. That truth sat like a stone in my gut.
The kings found me there. They didn’t speak at first. Darius sat on my left. Kane took the right. Rylan remained standing, axe planted point-down in the dirt.
"We held," I said. "But she’s still coming. And she won’t make the same mistakes twice."
Darius nodded. "Then we change the game again. Strike their camp directly while they’re still reeling."
Kane’s voice was flat steel. "A small team. Fast. In and out before they can react. Take her head if the chance appears."
Rylan’s grin returned, edged. "I’m in."
I looked at each of them. The bond carried our shared exhaustion and our unbreakable will. These men had once been cursed strangers I feared. Now they were my strength, my balance, my home.
"We go tonight," I decided. "While they lick their wounds. We end this threat at its source."
The decision settled between us. No grand ceremony. Just four people who had already chosen what they would sacrifice and what they would protect.
As evening fell, I sent riders back to Frostfang with messages for Garrick and a short note for Lila. Simple words. Mama is fighting hard. Kiss your brother and sister for me. We are coming home soon.
Then I checked my weapons, tightened my armor, and prepared to walk into the night with the three men who shared my soul.
The witch-blood wanted eternity bought with innocent blood.
We would show her what real power costs.
*****************
We left most of the force at the river under a trusted captain and slipped away with twenty of our sharpest. The night swallowed us quickly. Mud sucked at our boots as we circled wide through the hills, avoiding the main trails. Rain had stopped but the ground stayed treacherous, every step a risk of noise or a turned ankle.
I moved between Darius and Kane, Rylan a shadow ahead scouting the path. No one spoke. Words had been used up back at camp. Now only breath, heartbeat, and the shared knowledge of what failure meant kept us locked together.
Hours later the enemy camp lights flickered through the trees. We dropped low and crawled the final stretch, bellies to wet earth. The air reeked of wet wool, woodsmoke, and unwashed bodies. Their sentries walked predictable patterns, tired after the day’s slaughter. We timed the gaps and slid past the outer ring like ghosts.
Inside the camp proper, tents stood in messy rows. Wounded groaned from open shelters. Warriors sat sharpening blades by low fires, faces hollow. I signaled a halt behind a supply wagon and studied the central pavilion. Larger than the rest. Heavier guards. That had to be hers.
Darius touched my wrist, pointing. Two figures slipped out the back of the big tent. One was the witch-blood woman herself, braids swinging as she moved with purpose toward a smaller, heavily guarded structure. The other looked like a healer carrying bundles of herbs.
Rylan eased closer, voice barely a breath. "She’s checking something. Or someone."
We split. Kane and two gammas circled left. Rylan took three more right. Darius stayed glued to my side as we approached the smaller tent from behind. The fabric was thick, stitched with strange symbols that made my skin crawl. Low chanting came from inside.
I cut a small slit with my knife and peered through.
The witch-blood stood over a stone altar draped in black. On it lay a young captive, barely more than a boy, wrists bound, eyes wide with terror. She held a curved blade above his chest, murmuring words in an old tongue. Power thickened the air like smoke.
This wasn’t the main ritual. This was practice. Testing. Preparing for my children.
Rage nearly blinded me. Darius gripped my shoulder hard, holding me in place. We couldn’t rush. Not yet.
The woman raised the blade higher. The boy whimpered.
I made the call. Slipped inside first, Darius right behind. My sword took the nearest guard before he could shout. Darius silenced another with a hand over the mouth and a knife through the neck. The witch-blood spun, eyes widening in recognition.
"You," she hissed. "The bitch queen herself."
She didn’t scream for help. Instead she smiled, sharp and knowing, and flicked her wrist. The air crackled. Invisible force slammed into me, lifting me off my feet and throwing me against the tent pole. Pain exploded in my back. Darius roared and charged her, but another wave caught him mid-stride, pinning him against the wall.
The healer tried to run. I rolled to my feet and cut him down before he reached the entrance. The captive boy stared at me, trembling.
The witch-blood laughed softly. "You think killing my followers matters? Their deaths feed the old blood. Every drop brings me closer to what your cursed mates owe my line."
I pushed forward against the invisible pressure, teeth gritted. "My children owe you nothing."
She stepped closer, blade still in hand. Up close she looked younger than I expected, maybe thirty, but her eyes carried centuries of hate.
"Your latent strength is impressive. But you bleed like any mortal. When I open your twins under the proper alignment, the curse becomes mine to command. Eternal life. True dominion. And you will watch every second before I let you die."
Darius strained against her power, claws sprouting from his fingertips. I felt the bond surge, feeding me raw strength. I lunged.
My sword caught her across the forearm. Blood welled dark. She hissed in pain and the magical pressure vanished. Darius dropped free and slammed into her. They crashed over the altar. The captive boy scrambled away.
Rylan burst through the front with Kane right behind. Chaos erupted. Guards poured in from outside. Steel rang. I grabbed the boy and shoved him toward Kane. "Get him out."
Kane took the boy and carved a path toward the rear. Rylan’s axe cleared the rest. Darius and I fought back to back, trading blows with the inner guards while the witch-blood retreated toward a hidden flap, clutching her wounded arm.
She paused at the exit, eyes locked on mine. "This changes nothing. I have tasted your fear now. Run home to your whelps. I will come for them when the moon aligns properly. And you will be too late."
Then she was gone, vanishing into the night with a handful of her best.
We didn’t chase. The camp was waking fast. Horns sounded. We fought our way out, leaving bodies and fire in our wake. Rylan set the main pavilion ablaze as we ran. Flames climbed high, lighting the chaos we left behind.
Dawn found us miles away, exhausted and bloodied, but alive. The rescued boy rode with Kane, silent and shaking but breathing. We had struck deep. Hurt her. Burned part of her power base.
But she had escaped.
Back at the river camp the pack greeted us with weary relief. I sat on a rock while healers worked on fresh cuts. The kings gathered close. Darius’s hand rested on my knee. Kane cleaned my sword without being asked. Rylan paced, still buzzing from the fight.
"We bloodied her," I said. "But she’s smart. She’ll pull back, regroup, wait for the right moon."
Darius nodded. "Then we don’t give her time. We press the advantage."
The rescued boy finally spoke, voice hoarse. "She needs all three children together under the full alignment. Two weeks from now. She said your bloodline completes the circle."
Two weeks.
I looked at the kings. The timeline changed everything. We had a date now. A target.
I stood up despite the pain in my body and faced the gathered pack. "We hurt them tonight. Tomorrow we hurt them more. In two weeks we end this for good."
The pack answered with low, determined growls. No grand cheers. Just the sound of people who had chosen their side and meant to see it through.
I touched the small carved wolf in my pocket again. The children waited. Time was short.
We would use every hour to make sure the witch-blood never got close enough to touch them.
The river kept flowing, carrying yesterday’s dead toward the sea. We turned our eyes north once more, weapons ready, hearts set.
Whatever came in the next two weeks, we would meet it head on.
Together.
