Encircled by his knights, Lucien drew his sword.
"Show yourself!" Kyle roared, his voice tearing through the forest.
Lucien scanned the surroundings. The usual sounds of the hunt had vanished—no birds, no distant horns. Only the whisper of leaves and the horses' strained breaths remained.
The knights stiffened as the lingering Mana drained away.
Lucien's jaw clenched. A mana disruption spell.
It severed access to Mana across an unknown range, for an unknown duration.
A flicker of movement pulled their attention upward. Across the treetops, a translucent shimmer unfurled like a falling veil—a silent dome.
They cast it from beyond the disruption range. Lucien's grip tightened around the hilt. Whoever they are… they came prepared.
A dull thud struck the ground.
Every head turned, and they found a man lying sprawled in the grass, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Dead.
Another thud followed. Then another. One by one, bodies fell from the treeline. Soon, five corpses in light armor lay scattered along the edge of the clearing. Judging by the lack of sigils, they were mercenaries.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. But why were they being killed?
"Your Highness," a woman's voice called.
A figure stepped out into the open, cloaked and hooded, her face swallowed by shade.
She dipped into a curtsey. "It is an honor to finally meet you," she said, straightening; her tone hardened. "Please surrender—while we're being kind."
As if on cue, hooded black-robed men with drawn blades slipped from behind the trees.
Above, the branches rustled.
Dozens of archers revealed themselves among the canopy, crossbows leveled toward the knights below.
Lucien swept the perimeter, counting them. Ten against thirty-three…
"Who do you think you are?!" Kyle barked, urging his horse forward.
Lucien's hand shot out, stopping him. "Kyle. Stand down."
When their eyes locked, Lucien's gaze flicked briefly toward the archers, then back to him. "Let me handle this."
Kyle's jaw clenched as his fingers curled around the reins. After a tense beat, he drew his horse back. "Understood."
Lucien returned to the cloaked woman. Since she told him to surrender, it was clear: she wanted him alive.
And that gave him leverage.
"What do you want from me?" Lucien asked, tilting his chin toward the bodies. "And who were they?"
"Come with us, and you'll find out." The woman smiled, unruffled. "As for the second question…" Her smile widened. "Why not ask your brother?"
Lucien's brow creased. My brother? Tristan?
Cold crept down his spine as he looked back at the corpses.
Were those mercenaries acting under Tristan's orders? What were they doing here? Did Tristan send them to keep tabs on him… or to get rid of him?
Lucien shoved the thought aside and refocused on the woman. The implications were unsettling, but escape was now the priority.
"If I surrender," he said evenly, "will you let my knights go?"
A foolish question. He knew the answer.
But it bought time.
The woman tilted her head, amusement lacing her voice. "That depends. Will they behave?"
Lucien exhaled slowly and lowered his sword. "They will."
"Your Highness—!" Kyle protested, but Lucien raised a hand, silencing him without looking back.
"I'll go," Lucien said, holding the woman's gaze. "Just don't touch them."
She inclined her head in satisfaction. "A wise choice, Your Highness."
Lucien let go of his bow and sword. The dull thuds against the earth felt deafening in the silence. Swinging down from his horse, he walked toward the woman.
When the distance between them closed, she extended her hand in invitation.
In one swift motion, Lucien seized her wrist, wrenched her arm behind her back, and dragged her close as his other hand slipped beneath his jacket. Steel flashed—his dagger kissed her throat.
Light flared.
Kyle's blade swept in a wide arc, releasing an Aura Projection that ripped through the canopy, shearing branches and archers alike. Behind him, the knights hurled their hurlbats toward the rear ranks.
Screams split the air as bodies plunged through the treetops.
When trunks and limbs thundered to the forest floor, the black-robed swordsmen surged from the treeline at the knights.
"Stop!" The woman's command cracked through the chaos. The black-robed men halted mid-charge, eyes drawn to the blade at her throat.
A brittle silence followed.
"Call them off," Lucien said, easing backward, the dagger never leaving her skin.
With a flick of her chin, the black-robed men obeyed, dropping their weapons in a metallic clatter before kicking them aside.
"One move," Lucien warned quietly, "and she dies."
Kyle and the knights moved in, forming a tight protective ring around him. As a Swordmaster, Kyle had mastered Aura Projection, giving them a chance to fight back.
"Dismiss the Mana disruption spell and the silent dome," Lucien ordered, eyes sweeping the treeline for any sign of movement.
If Mana returned, they might break through and call for reinforcements.
"T-the mages maintaining the silent dome are stationed miles away," she stammered. "I can only dispel the Mana disruption spell."
"Do it." Lucien pressed the blade tighter to her throat.
Her free hand frantically slipped beneath her cloak.
"Watch her hands!" Kyle shouted.
A nearby knight raised his sword as the woman produced a small pendant—a bone-carved whistle bound with a black cord.
"I'm only taking this!" she snapped, defiance flashing in her eyes. "You'll regret this!"
She brought the whistle to her lips—
and blew.
No sound followed.
But the reaction was immediate.
Horses snorted and reared. The air thickened. Then, like a dam giving way, Mana surged back into the world.
Lucien recited a flare incantation, but something lunged at him with blinding speed.
Kyle slashed, releasing a crescent of light. The figure vanished, the Aura carving into the ground before it reappeared in a flash.
Lucien snapped up a shield just as the blur swung its fist. The barrier spiderwebbed across its surface with a thunderous crack, shockwaves rippling through the air.
Lucien's eyes widened as its hood slid back, revealing something neither man nor beast.
Claws pierced through the fractured barrier. Fangs jutted from its mouth. Crimson eyes burned into him with feral hunger.
A half-werewolf—the cult's elite soldier.
Why?
Cold slid down Lucien's spine.
Why did the cult want him?