Lucien
Lucien dismounted his horse, boots sinking into the damp earth as the smell of blood reached his nose. It was faint now, hours old, but strong enough to linger. The silence pressed in on every side, broken only by the restless snort of the horses and the crunch of boots as his warriors spread out among the trees.
Nyla fell into step beside him, her hand never straying far from her blade. Reid followed close behind, his face tight, as if holding in words that were too sharp to be spoken.
Lucien crouched beside the first body. The man’s eyes were open, glazed and empty, fixed on some point beyond the canopy. His skin was carved with runes, dark and twisting, as if they still moved even after death. Lucien’s jaw tightened. He had seen battlefields drenched in blood, bodies torn apa
