Chapter 37

The pain was immobilising.

The cold grip of grief had set into every muscle, every bone, every inch of my skin until I was prostrate in agony, still clutching onto Garrick’s body, with his blood on my hands and the taste of him on my lips.

Lifting my head, I stared blankly through the trees into the clearing. My vision was murky with tears but I could see our army’s retreat and figures disappearing into the forest. It was like watching the great walls of the citadel collapse before my eyes. The generals had fallen and brick by brick, the defenses had crumbled to the ground, leaving behind nothing but dust and a memory.

The remnants of the Varúlfur clans had followed their new leader into the darkness of Oxleas but I could hear their howls and knew they were not too far away.