Summary
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The Scarlet Rider — A strait-laced fledgling hunter. A silver tongued mercenary. — And a devastating storm that threatens their world.
The Scarlet Rider — A strait-laced fledgling hunter. A silver tongued mercenary. — And a devastating storm that threatens their world.
A huge, Class Five thank you to my family, because without them, I absolutely would have gone insane. Especially my brother. My parents are my core support system, but my brother is my co-conspiratory partner-in-crime. I thank God every day for all of them.
“I don’t need to do this, Red.”
Vanilla and lavender. The scents were warming and delicate, enticing Azalea to further sleep.
Grey Dismas spat out a mouthful of blood as he jabbed blindly with his spear. In the hectic scramble of warding off ravenous beasts, the impeccable techniques of the House Geppett militia had devolved into little more than wild, thoughtless flailing. Yet again, Grey was in charge of captaining untempered soldiers.
Halcyon laughed in the rain.
Light flooded the field as Sethis cleaved his blade downward. Mana rippled through the steel like a solar flare, carving into the resilient hide of the beast before him, splitting it from head to tail in one terrible blow.
Mana was limitless around Azalea. The canyon was saturated with it, drowning in it. She gritted her teeth against the sheer force of it dragging at her skin like a current.
It had been an aggressively, hatefully sunny day when Azalea received the letter.
Nicolina was silent before the window of her study, staring into the looming night like a statue. She didn’t quite know what she was watching for. Beacons, maybe. The northern beacons would light if a Class Five made an appearance. But no, perhaps she was looking eastward; for daybreak, for a dawn that would mean this terrible ordeal was over.