The Edge of Death
The air in the clearing burned cold, every breath like glass in my lungs. My body ached, my wounds from the last trial still raw, but Lucien gave no reprieve. He stood at the edge of the circle, shadows coiling around him like watchful serpents.
“Again,” he ordered.
I forced myself upright, gripping the shadow-blades in trembling hands. Around me, five beasts prowled—monstrosities born from darkness and fear. Their eyes gleamed crimson, their teeth dripping black fire.
Five.
He’d doubled the trial.
I staggered into a fighting stance, my wolf howling inside me, both fear and fury burning through her. We cannot hold, Kimberly. But we cannot fall.
The beasts lunged at once.
I moved on instinct, spinning, my blades flashing. One fell in an arc of black fire, but claws
