The warning came too late.
By the time the northern sentry flare lit up the dusk sky, the scent of blood had already begun to taint the wind. The scent was so intoxicating that the mere thought of it just made me want to keel over and throw up.
I was halfway between the barracks and the training grounds when it hit me—a pulse of cold in my chest, like the mark at my neck had turned to ice. I dropped the gear in my hands and ran. Behind me, someone shouted my name. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop running.
The tree line ahead glowed faintly with runes we’d etched to warn of a breach, but they flickered like dying embers—one by one snuffed out. We were under attack.
I reached the clearing just as the first screams tore through the air, loud and filled with so much pain.
Bodies clashed. Cl
