The attack hadn't come. Not yet, atleast for today.
A breath slipped from Max's chest, thin and shaky, but relief never settled. Something inside him coiled tight, a quiet warning whispering that whatever waited out there was worse than anything they'd faced before.
Maybe the timeline shifted. Maybe fate was stalling. Maybe something larger was gathering strength.
His gaze lifted to the sky, searching clouds that offered no answers.
"If the timeline is changing, maybe their strategy changing aswell," he murmured, voice low, "then I need to change mine."
He clenched his fists, jaw tightening.
"I need to be ready. More than before."
***
Three days after Lily's demonstration, Max found himself once more in a convoy winding through forest roads. Seventeen wagons this time, carrying supplies and several sealed chests marked with Church wardings. The escort had doubled, thirty soldiers flanking the wagons, all five Drakhalis siblings positioned strategically throughout.
Max rode near the rear, eyes constantly scanning the dense forest. The pattern was repeating, but with variations. In his previous life, the second convoy had also been attacked, but much closer to the citadel. This earlier positioning suggested whoever orchestrated these assaults was growing bolder.
"You look like you're expecting ghosts," Darius called from his position several wagons ahead, his spirit wolf Thorne padding alongside his horse.
"Not ghosts," Max replied. "Something more substantial."
Violet rode up beside him, Astra circling overhead. "You've been on edge since before we left. What are you seeing that we aren't?"
Max studied the tree line. "Nothing yet. But the timing feels wrong."
"Timing of what?" Violet followed his gaze.
Before Max could answer, Atlas's roar cut through the forest silence. The massive War Lion bounded forward from his position at the convoy's head, Brian shouting commands to the soldiers.
"Formation three!" Brian's voice carried. "Perimeter around the wagons!"
Max drew his sword, feeling the weight unfamiliar in his younger body. "They're coming from both sides," he said, certainty in his voice.
Violet gave him a strange look. "How can you possibly—"
A whistling sound cut through the air. Max yanked Violet sideways just as an arrow embedded itself in the wagon behind them.
"Archers!" Max shouted. "Northeast ridge!"
Hazel's voice rang out: "Northeast confirmed! Earth barricades, now!"
The convoy's mages threw up hasty shields of stone and earth as more arrows rained down. Max counted six archers on the ridge. Humans, not demons, their faces obscured by masks bearing twisted symbols.
"Coordinated attack," Max muttered. "They knew we were coming."
A flash of movement caught his eye from the southern tree line. "Second wave incoming! South forest edge!"
Creatures burst from the trees, wolflike but wrong, with elongated limbs and purple veins pulsing beneath mangy fur. Corruption had sunk deep into these beasts.
The convoy's defensive line formed with practiced efficiency, but Max saw the pattern unfolding. The archers were herding them toward the corrupted beasts, funneling the wagons into a killing zone.
"They're boxing us in," Max called to Violet. "The archers aren't trying to hit us, they're directing our movement!"
Violet nodded sharply and sent Astra skyward. "Brian! It's a trap formation!"
But the warning came too late. More corrupted wolves poured from the western tree line, cutting off their escape route. The convoy halted, forming a defensive circle around the wagons.
Max dismounted, sliding between two wagons to position himself at a vulnerable point in their defensive line. Three soldiers stood nearby, weapons ready but fear evident in their postures.
"Hold the line," Max said with calm authority that surprised even him. "They'll come in waves, testing for weakness."
The first wave hit moments later. Corrupted wolves charged their position, moving with unnatural speed. The soldiers braced themselves, spears extended.
Max counted silently. 'one, two, three.' then stepped forward at precisely the right moment, sword slashing across a leaping wolf's throat. The creature collapsed, black ichor spraying from the wound.
A second wolf lunged at the soldier to Max's left, knocking him backward. Max pivoted, driving his blade into the beast's side. It howled, a sound disturbingly human, before collapsing.
The third attack came directly at Max, two wolves simultaneously. He ducked beneath the first, but the second's claws raked across his shoulder, tearing through leather and skin.
Pain lanced through him. Max staggered, nearly losing his footing as blood seeped through his torn jacket. The wolf circled back, sensing weakness.
Time seemed to slow. Max felt something stirring within him, a presence that had been waiting, dormant yet aware. Cinder.
The wolf lunged. Max raised his blade defensively, knowing he wouldn't be fast enough.
Something snapped inside him. Barrier breaking, a dam bursting. Energy surged through his veins, hot and wild and ancient. His aura, normally a whisper, roared to life.
Max struck without conscious thought, his body moving on instinct honed through years of training he hadn't yet experienced. His sword traced a perfect arc, illuminated by a flash of crimson energy.
For no more than half a second, a silhouette formed around him, translucent and draconic. Wings unfurled, a tail lashed, and Max felt power unlike anything his fifteen-year-old body had ever channeled.
The wolf didn't just fall, it was bisected cleanly, the cut cauterized by intense heat. Beyond it, two more wolves dropped to the ground, similarly sliced though they'd been meters away.
Max froze, horrified at what had just happened. He immediately suppressed his aura, forcing it back down with desperate mental effort. The draconic silhouette vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Throughout the forest, birds took flight in massive flocks, their startled cries filling the air. More disturbing were the corrupted wolves, those still living dropped low to the ground, bellies pressed against the earth in unmistakable submission.
Max steadied his breathing, fighting to appear normal. Had anyone seen? He looked around frantically, but the soldiers near him were occupied with their own battles. His siblings fought elsewhere in the convoy, none looking in his direction.
The wolves that had bowed remained prone for only moments before scrambling away, retreating into the forest with unnatural speed. Confusion spread through the convoy's defenders as their enemies suddenly abandoned the attack.
"What just happened?" one of the soldiers asked, lowering his spear uncertainly.
"Stay alert," Max replied, his voice carefully controlled despite his internal panic. "It could be a feint."
But the attack had truly ended. Within minutes, the archers disappeared from the ridge, and the forest fell silent except for the wounded.
Brian rode along the convoy's perimeter, Atlas prowling beside him. "Report casualties and damage!" he called. "And someone explain why those beasts retreated!"
Max wiped black ichor from his blade, careful to keep his movements steady despite his racing heart. What had just happened? The power that had surged through him was nothing like his aura in his previous life, it was wilder, more primal, and unmistakably draconic.
Hazel approached, her hands glowing with healing energy as she assessed the wounded. "You're bleeding," she noted, gesturing to Max's shoulder.
"It's shallow," Max replied, though the wound burned fiercely.
"Let me see it anyway." Her tone brooked no argument.
As Hazel examined his shoulder, Max focused on maintaining absolute control over his aura. The last thing he needed was another flare-up.
"Strange," Hazel murmured, her fingers probing the wound. "The edges are cauterized, but the claws definitely penetrated."
Max said nothing, keeping his expression neutral.
"Did you feel anything unusual during the attack?" Hazel asked. "Any surge of power?"
"No," Max lied. "Why would I?"
Hazel studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged. "The wound pattern is odd, that's all."
After bandaging his shoulder, Hazel moved on to other injured soldiers. Max exhaled slowly, relief washing through him.
The convoy reorganized quickly, increasing pace to reach their destination before nightfall. As they rode, Max kept to himself, processing what had happened.
He remembered legends from his previous life, tales of ancient draconic bloodlines and the powers they commanded. Such stories were considered myths, not history.
Yet what else could explain the silhouette that had briefly surrounded him? What other power could cause corrupted beasts to bow?
The implications were staggering. If Cinder wasn't merely a formless spirit but something more fundamental, something tied to his very blood, then everything he thought he knew about himself was wrong.
More troubling was the reaction of the forest itself. Birds fleeing, beasts bowing... as if the land recognized something Max himself didn't understand.
By evening, the convoy reached its destination safely. As they unloaded the supplies under the watchful eyes of Church representatives, Max caught Violet studying him with unusual intensity.
"You moved differently during the fight," she said quietly. "Not like yourself at all."
Max met her gaze steadily. "We all do unexpected things when survival is at stake."
"Perhaps." Violet didn't look convinced. "But for a moment, it seemed like... something else was moving through you."
Max forced a laugh. "Sounds like you've been listening to too many of Father's old battle stories."
Violet didn't join his laughter. "Maybe. Or maybe there's more to my little brother than anyone realized."
As she walked away, Max stared after her, a chill running down his spine despite the warm evening air.
The kingdom had sensed him before his family did, the land itself responding to power he didn't yet understand. But how long could he keep such power hidden? And what would happen when he could no longer contain it?