He crouched easily, fingers hooked under Ava’s chin as he tilted her face up. His expression was calm. Curious.

  Miles screamed again, high and sharp, the sound slicing through the clearing.

  Anthony glanced at the child, then back to Ava.

  “That,” he said mildly, “is loud.”

  Ava met his gaze, fury and terror burning together as Miles’ scream echoed behind her.

  The fog was now gone, the fight had paused.

  And whatever came next would not. Anthony’s gaze stayed on Miles.

  The bats above slowed their circling, massive wings beating in wide, deliberate arcs. Their screeches faded into a low, vibrating chorus, like breath held too long.

  “Miles,” Anthony said again.

  The sound of his name snapped through the clearing.

  Miles’ scream broke off mid breath. He stood frozen, chest heaving, eyes wide and wet as he stared at the dark elf.

  Anthony crouched slightly, lowering himself to the child’s level. His voice never rose.

  “Do you know what happens when they grab something small?” he asked calmly. “They don’t kill it right away.”

  A bat dipped lower, its shadow sliding across the ground.

  “They take pieces,” Anthony continued. “Fingers first. Arms if they’re excited. They like the sound bones make when they snap.”

  Miles made a thin, choking noise.

  Anthony smiled faintly.

  “And if you keep screaming,” he went on, “they won’t wait for me to stop them.”

  The bats shrieked as one, a sharp, eager sound.

  Ava felt the world tilt.

  “Don’t,” she growled, voice raw.

  Anthony didn’t even glance at her.

  “They’ll pull you apart up there,” he said to Miles, gesturing lazily toward the sky. “Drop what’s left. I’ll let your friends decide which pieces they recognize.”

  Something inside Ava snapped clean in half.

  She drew her dagger and slashed upward with everything she had.

  Anthony stepped back easily, the blade cutting empty air inches from his face.

  Ava snarled and hurled the dagger without hesitation.

  Anthony twisted aside, metal flashing past his cheek close enough to shear a strand of hair before the blade buried itself deep in a tree trunk behind him.

  The bats shrieked again, wings beating harder.

  Ava used the opening.

  She surged to her feet, boots sliding in dirt as she reached back and ripped her axe free. The weight of it settled into her hands like an extension of her rage.

  She straightened slowly.

  Blood streaked her face. Her chest heaved.

  Her eyes were burning.

  Anthony regarded her now, head tilting, interest sharpening.

  “Oh,” he said softly. “There it is.”

  Ava lifted her axe, knuckles white, every muscle coiled and shaking with fury.

  “You say one more word to him,” she said, voice low and lethal, “and I will tear your throat out and feed it to them myself.”

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  Above them, the bats circled tighter, massive shapes blotting out the stars.

  Waiting.

  Anthony smiled wider.

  Like a conductor cueing an orchestra, Anthony flicked a single finger.

  The bats responded instantly.

  One peeled from the air and dove straight for Ace.

  Ace barely had time to react. He was still on his knees beside Sable, hands slick with blood as he pressed hard against her side, trying to slow the bleeding. The shadow hit fast and low.

  “Baxter!” Ace shouted.

  Baxter didn’t hesitate.

  He charged, planting himself between Ace and the dive, swinging his hammer-headed mace in a brutal arc. The impact cracked through the clearing as it connected, sending the bat spiraling into the dirt in a tangle of wings and broken bone.

  More screeches followed overhead.

  Kyo’s silver eyes snapped from Miles to Ava.

  The sight of her being toyed with hit him harder than the pain already tearing through his body. Light blue aura flickered weakly around him, unstable, sputtering like a dying flame.

  He swayed. He had nothing left to give.

  Still, he tried.

  His hands trembled as he pushed against his limits again, breath shuddering, vision tunneling.

  Then he turned sharply to Broderick.

  “Please,” Kyo gasped. “Broderick. Go get Miles.”

  The wyrm’s head snapped toward him.

  Acknowledgment registered instantly.

  Broderick moved.

  He bolted across the clearing with startling speed, metal plates shifting as he reached Miles. The end of his tail curved around the boy gently, carefully, lifting him just enough to pull him clear of the open ground.

  Miles sobbed violently, chest hitching, panic tearing through him again as he was moved.

  “Health status is critical,” Broderick stated calmly. “Please calm down, Miles. I am here now.”

  A bat dove.

  Broderick’s head snapped up.

  His jaws closed with a brutal crunch as he caught the creature midair, metal teeth biting straight through its skull. The bat split in half, blood spraying down across Broderick’s plating and splattering onto Miles.

  Miles screamed.

  The sound ripped out of him, high and piercing, shredding what little calm Broderick had managed to establish.

  Across the clearing, Ava was a storm.

  She swung relentlessly at Anthony, axe flashing again and again, every strike fueled by fury and fear and the sound of Miles’ screams tearing through her skull. She gave him no space, no pause, no mercy.

  Anthony only smiled.

  He moved with effortless grace, slipping past every swing by inches. He twisted, stepped, leaned back, always just out of reach, his movements smooth and infuriatingly precise.

  Ava roared and swung harder.

  Anthony ducked under the arc of her axe and drove his fist into her chest.

  The blow hit like a hammer.

  Ava stumbled back, breath exploding out of her as pain tore through her ribs.

  She didn’t stop.

  She launched herself at him again, teeth bared, axe coming down with lethal intent.

  Anthony laughed.

  I was delighted.

  “You are beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, voice warm with admiration as he danced out of range. “I have a habit of taking strong, beautiful things…”

  He sidestepped another swing, eyes gleaming.

  “And breaking them.”

  Above them, the bats circled tighter, waiting for the next flick of his finger.

  And Miles screamed again.

  Anthony shifted his stance.

  Not to retreat.

  To test her.

  Ava swung again, axe cutting a brutal arc toward his shoulder. This time he didn’t fully evade. He caught the haft with one hand, metal ringing as the force shuddered through both of them.

  She twisted instantly, yanking the axe free and bringing it back around. He blocked with his forearm, the impact jolting them apart.

  Good.

  She was faster than he expected.

  Anthony’s smile widened.

  There it is.

  He stepped in, throwing a sharp punch toward her ribs. Ava raised her arm, bracing, the blow glancing off her guard hard enough to sting but not break. She grunted and shoved back, boots digging into the dirt as she kept her balance.

  Around them, the bats circled lower, wings beating in slow, synchronized patterns.

  No one moved.

  Ace stayed frozen beside Sable, Baxter rigid with his mace half lifted, Kyo barely upright, breath shallow as his eyes tracked every motion.

  They could only watch.

  Anthony moved again, fast. A strike toward her face.

  Ava snapped her axe up, blocking with the haft. The impact rang through her arms, numbing but survivable. She followed through immediately, slamming the butt of the axe toward his midsection.

  He twisted aside, laughter slipping from him this time.

  Soft. Private.

  “Well done, pet,” he murmured, close enough that only she could hear.

  Ava’s stomach turned.

  She lunged, fury sharpening her movements, forcing him back step by step. Steel met steel. Wood met bone. Every exchange tight and controlled, every strike answered, every opening closed.

  Anthony leaned in again as they locked briefly, his voice a breath against her ear.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered. “I like you feral.”