Chapter 7 - The Blood Moon Rises
The courtyard of Blackwood Fortress was bathed in the eerie, silver-blue luminescence of a full winter moon.
Massive shadows danced across the snow as three enormous war-hounds—their eyes glowing with an unnatural, crimson frenzy, driven mad by alchemical poisons—lunged wildly toward the stables. Standing before them, his magnificent silver coat bristling with lethal fury, was Valen.
With a deafening roar, the great wolf leaped forward, his massive jaws locking onto the throat of the lead hound, tearing it down into the blood-stained snow in a blur of fur and muscle.
From the shadows of the colonnade, a cloaked figure slipped away toward the outer wall, clutching a heavy leather pouch beneath his arm.
Phineas, the alchemist, moved with desperate speed. He had miscalculated; the interception of Vane’s dispatch had ruined their timetable, but if he could reach the southern stables and escape into the mountain pass before the royal guard locked down the gates, the entire alchemical reserve of the low-keep would be his.
He rounded the corner of the armory—and stopped dead in his tracks.
Standing in the center of the snowy path, blocking the only exit to the lower gate, was Eliza.
She was alone. No guards. No sword in her hand. Only the little white wolf cub sitting quietly at her feet, its amber eyes gleaming with an eerie, intelligent focus.
Phineas let out a harsh, jagged laugh, drawing a long, poisoned stiletto from beneath his cloak. "Step aside, little mountain flower. I have no quarrel with you—unless you wish to join the ghosts in the Sea of Bones."
Eliza did not move. She looked at the glistening blade, then up at the alchemist’s twisted, panicked face. "You poisoned the hounds," she said quietly, her voice entirely devoid of fear. "You wanted to create enough chaos to mask Vane's coup."
"Vane is a fool, and so is the king!" Phineas snarled, taking a dangerous step forward, the blade catching the moonlight. "The north belongs to those who control the bloodlines, not those who sit weeping over dying beasts!"
Phineas lunged, driving the poisoned stiletto straight toward Eliza’s chest.
He didn't expect the white wolf cub to move. With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, the tiny cub leaped into the air, sinking its milk teeth directly into Phineas’s wrist with a vicious snap.
Phineas shrieked in pain, stumbling backward and swinging his arm wildly. The cub was thrown against the stone wall, letting out a sharp yelp.
"You little beast—" Phineas raised the blade to strike downward.
Before the knife could fall, a heavy, iron-shod boot slammed directly into Phineas’s chest with the force of a battering ram. The alchemist flew backward across the courtyard, crashing hard against the stone fountain, the stiletto flying from his hand into the snow.
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Rowan Blackwood stood over him, his broadsword gleaming in the moonlight, his chest heaving with cold, unbridled fury. His amber eyes blazed with the terrifying, absolute wrath of an Alpha King whose domain had been violated.
"Touch her again," Rowan whispered, his voice dangerously low, "and I will feed you to the crows piece by piece."
