“It’s not fair,” Lirany muttered, carefully sidestepping something unpleasant that looked like the stomach remains of some unfortunate creature. “Why do you have to pay tribute to that beast? This is slavery!”

  The day was bright, perfect for a visit to the port. Meanwhile, rumors about the human girl—capable of destroying any yokai with nothing more than a snap of her fingers—had spread like wildfire throughout the city. The prohibition against approaching her had turned into a challenge for many yokai, especially those who had once tasted human flesh or simply wanted to witness her power firsthand. Unfortunately for them, their curiosity remained a mere fantasy—Ayun never let her out of his sight.

  The presence of the Guild was also stirring dangerous speculation. If even the Tower’s authority had taken an interest in her, then she was certainly no ordinary creature. Her powers, whispered about in hushed voices across the city, were crafting a dark reputation around her—one Ayun did not dispute, as it served as an added layer of protection beyond his own. Most yokai avoided provoking him, fearing his retaliation and ensuring their own peaceful existence. The air of mystery surrounding him placed him in a higher, untouchable class in their eyes.

  He stepped over the filth in the middle of the road out of reflex, his tail narrowly avoiding it.

  “Every night, we give up a portion of our energy to the dragon—just to keep him here,” Ayun said casually. “Tharym got lucky that he made his lair in this place. His sheer presence keeps other yokai at bay. In thirty years, only one sea serpent dared to attack the city—and it was destroyed instantly. This tribute was exactly what we needed… until you showed up.”

  She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly.

  “Does the Guild know about what happened yesterday?” she asked, a note of unease in her voice.

  “No. If we told the Tower, they’d want to know why the dragon didn’t feed on your life energy. That would mean complicated tests. I figured it was best to wait… and let you rest.”

  Neither of them wanted to breathe in the heavy stench of fish, which had soaked into the gravel of Tharym’s streets, so they took a parallel path along the airship port, leading toward the ocean. Ayun could already taste the salt in the air.

  “And… the other yokai? The one with horns?” Lirany hesitated.

  “Hachyro? What about him?”

  “He attacked you!” she burst out, indignant. “Shouldn’t the Tower know about this?”

  Ayun let out a loud, unrestrained laugh, drawing curious glances from passersby.

  “Lirany, where do you think I’d be if I complained about every beast in this port that’s threatened me since the day I set foot here?” Ayun said, looking at her with a mix of pride and amusement. “I learned to handle things on my own.”

  “But… what if he comes back?”

  Hachyro had terrified her more than any creature she had ever encountered, and the worry in her voice was unmistakable.

  “You helped both of us last night, so I doubt he’ll try to hunt you again,” Ayun reassured her. “Despite how he looks, he’s not a yokai. He’s part of the arsian people, an ancient race…”

  His voice trailed off. The words had come naturally, as if he had always known them, though Hachyro had never once spoken of his origins. Lirany, lost in her own thoughts, didn’t notice the way Ayun’s gaze drifted for a moment.

  “He could corner you again,” she murmured, still uneasy.

  “Oh, he definitely will,” Ayun replied, utterly nonchalant. “But he won’t dare kill me. Not yet, at least.”

  Seeing that she was about to bombard him with questions, he raised a hand, stopping her.

  “Don’t ask me for more details. Telling you would put you in danger—and worse, it might provoke him to turn against you. We’ll talk about it another time… somewhere safer.”

  He hadn’t forgotten his promise to train her, but he still hadn’t figured out the best way to start. Yet, Lirany had already proven she was taking it seriously. If the sight of blood had once unsettled her, now she no longer looked away from the brawls that were a common sight in Tharym. She watched each yokai who threw themselves into battle, studying their fights intently, analyzing them with growing fascination.

  “Those two are going to tear each other apart,” Ayun remarked, nodding toward a pair of creatures savagely clawing at each other on the docks.

  When one of the yokai’s blood mixed with the dirt, spraying from a deep wound, Lirany flinched slightly but didn’t avert her gaze. She bit her lip, watching the fight unfold. Ayun glanced at her briefly before slipping in a challenge.

  “Want me to join them?”

  Truthfully, he was wondering if this would be a good chance to test his own limits. But before he could say anything more, Lirany grabbed his arm, convinced he was about to throw himself into the fray.

  “No! No… I won’t be able to do anything if you leave!”

  “There are plenty of yokai around for you to drain energy from—you’d recover your sight in no time,” he pointed out.

  “And what if… what if they die?”

  So she was still afraid that her gift might kill a creature too weak to withstand her power. And if she ever tried it on a yokai unwilling to share their energy… Until she learned control, he had no intention of letting her experiment on others and put herself at risk. With a sigh, he dropped the conversation.

  "Let’s go," he said curtly. "The air smells strange today. I don’t want to linger here too long."

  His main role was to ensure her safety, as Hrassin had ordered. But the port master sometimes gave him other minor tasks—like delivering reports to the captain of the Wraith, one of the skyships that had docked that morning. So, with four rolled-up scrolls in his arms, Ayun headed for the endless stairs leading to the skyport, Lirany following close behind, well aware of the reward awaiting her at the top.

  Unfortunately, the view from the docks was nothing like before. A sudden gust of wind greeted them as soon as they stepped onto the wet planks, tousling their hair and making their clothes billow. There was no sign of the Wraith or any other vessel. The reason loomed ominously in the distance.

  The sea, usually calm, was now churned by massive waves—but the real threat came from above. Heavy, dark clouds rolled toward the port, promising a devastating storm. Ayun cursed silently. Because of the terrain, he hadn’t noticed the warning signs from below—otherwise, he never would have risked coming up in this weather.

  “I’ve heard the sound of rain before, but I’ve never actually seen it!” Lirany confessed, raising her voice to be heard over the howling wind.

  "This isn’t something you’d want to see! The sooner we find the captain, the better."

  The ship had probably taken shelter in one of the skyport’s tunnels, and searching them all would take ages.

  "The captain’s probably off getting drunk in some bar—you won’t find him here," a voice cut in from behind.

  Hrassin approached with measured steps, the same sly expression on his face as always. His reptilian eyes lingered on Lirany for a moment, making her tense instinctively, before shifting to Ayun. Though Ayun had reacted instantly when Hachyro appeared, now he no longer shielded the girl so openly. The only sign of his unease was the slight way his ears lowered, betraying a tension barely noticeable.

  "So? What do you think of Tharym?" Hrassin asked Lirany.

  "Uh… interesting," she muttered, struggling to find a better word. "I still have a lot to learn. Not all yokai are like Ayun."

  "That’s because a kitsune without demonic blood isn’t exactly a yokai. He’s more like—"

  "Hrassin!"

  At first, they both thought Ayun had intervened to stop Hrassin from revealing something important, but in truth, he wasn’t paying attention to their conversation at all. A deep unease settled over him as he stared at the approaching storm. The sight of those menacing clouds sent a chill down his spine, an unnatural dread creeping into his bones. Tharym had endured many storms before, always at the mercy of nature’s whims, yet this… this was different. It was something else entirely. Every instinct in him screamed a single command: get away.

  Hrassin lifted his gaze to the churning clouds devouring the ocean as they advanced relentlessly toward the city.

  "Take the girl to her room, then head to the underground levels and summon the port warden!" he ordered, his voice sharp with authority. "Once you’ve warned him, get to the battlements. Send me any Guild members you come across. Go!"

  Ayun grabbed Lirany’s hand and led her back toward the endless staircase, spiraling skyward like a twisting serpent. She let out a startled whimper, her heartbeat quickening, fearing that their frantic descent would send her tumbling. Yet every time her foot slipped, every time she faltered, he was there, steady and unyielding, refusing to let her slow down.

  The wind had risen into a howling force, ripping dust from the streets as the city’s inhabitants abandoned their daily routines in a frenzied rush. Some darted into buildings for shelter, while guards in gleaming armor marched toward the port’s walls, their steps firm with unspoken urgency. Even the very air felt heavy with warning, as if Tharym itself was whispering a silent, undeniable message: danger was coming.

  The streets, filled with disoriented yokai, had become a maze of confusion. Fortunately, Ayun knew every turn, every shortcut that could save them. Moving swiftly, he wove his way toward the central building, slipping inside with the determination of a hunter. He made straight for the stairs, pulling Lirany behind him, fully aware of the exhaustion etched on her face. But safety came first—rest could wait.

  Once they reached her room, Ayun gently pushed her inside, allowing himself a brief moment to catch his breath. His heart pounded, every inhale a struggle.

  "Don’t... leave!" Lirany’s voice trembled. "The underground... it’s dangerous..."

  Her words faded into her uneven gasps.

  "I have to do this," he sighed, resolute. "Stay here, no matter what happens!"

  Lirany sank onto a chair, struggling to steady her breathing, her gaze locked onto him as he turned to leave. Just as his fingers brushed the door handle, a sharp, mocking voice cut through the air like a whip:

  "You’re not going anywhere, Ayun!"

  He spun around with a low growl, instincts flaring. His eyes locked onto his enemy.

  Hachyro stood perched on the balcony railing, blades glinting ominously as they swayed at his sides. Lirany jolted, retreating behind Ayun as if burned, but the arsian didn’t spare her a glance.

  "It’s our duty to protect the city!" Ayun declared, his voice laced with hostility.

  "Before you bare your fangs at me, get over here!" Hachyro snapped, his tone slicing through the air like a blade.

  Even as Lirany clutched his wrist, Ayun gently pulled away and stepped toward the balcony. It was clear the arsian wasn’t looking to resume their fight in the underground. Instead of tensing for battle, he was looking past his shoulder—toward the city—urging Ayun to see something.

  When he joined him, Ayun’s breath hitched. A deafening roar shook Tharym to its very core. A colossal golden dragon soared overhead, its radiant form bathing the city below in an ethereal glow. Had the sun dared to show itself, the beast’s sheer size could have eclipsed it entirely.

  The port’s inhabitants stood frozen in place, their gazes locked onto the creature with awe and reverence. The dragon’s elegant, sinuous movements were mesmerizing—it was their protector, their guardian. It had returned to watch over the land it had long called its lair. No matter what trials fate had in store, no force could breach the city with such an ally standing watch.

  Throwing its head back, the golden dragon unleashed a roar that defied the storm-choked sky. Then, with an indescribable power, it began beating its massive wings, the sound rivaling thunder itself as the very air trembled beneath its might.

  But instead of facing the approaching tempest, it turned toward the mountains—fleeing, soaring away from the oncoming deluge of fury.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "It’s… leaving us?" Lirany murmured.

  She had joined them, her gaze locked onto the glowing form of the yokai as it shrank smaller and smaller, until all that remained was a tiny glimmer in the vast sky.

  Ayun didn’t answer. Impossible. The dragon had to be planning something—perhaps summoning others like itself to defend the city. There was no way it would abandon them. It would return. It had to return. Swallowing hard, he lifted his eyes to the heavens.

  Above Tharym, the storm clouds thickened, devouring the last remnants of daylight far too soon. The guards rushed toward the walls, but the dragon’s sudden arrival and departure had cost them precious time. Some still gazed hopefully toward the mountains, but their protector was nowhere to be seen.

  Then—silence. Heavy. Unnatural. For a single breath, the world seemed to hold still. And then, a shadow landed upon the battlements.

  It resembled a bat, but its four powerful limbs, webbed together, made it monstrous in scale—nearly the size of a horse. Its elongated skull, eerily reminiscent of a bird of prey, bore a hooked nose, and its massive crimson eyes gleamed with an unnatural, chilling intelligence. Its entire body shimmered like pearl, iridescent even in the dim light. As it leaped toward the city, its vast wings kept it aloft, and behind it came the others—hundreds of them, swarming with an overwhelming, terrifying force.

  Lirany’s breath hitched.

  “They’re… they’re coming straight for us,” she whispered, eyes wide with a mix of horror and fascination.

  Her voice snapped Ayun out of his hypnotic trance, pulling him away from the horrifying spectacle unfolding before him.

  “Inside!” he shouted, panic sharp in his tone. “NOW!”

  Without hesitation, he grabbed her arm, shoving her toward the door leading into the building. Hachyro followed close behind, his steps quick and deliberate. They barreled down a flight of stairs, only to run into one of the guards assigned to protect the nobles.

  The man narrowed his eyes at the sight of the Arsian, a smug grin curling across his face.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to let him in,” he mocked. “Lord Hrassin will be thrilled to hear about this.”

  “Tharym is under attack!” Ayun snapped, disregarding the man’s petty delight at the chance to report him. “We need to get out of here!”

  The guard scoffed.

  “Attacked? Who in their right mind would dare attack Tharym?”

  Still smirking, he strode toward the window. But before he could take another breath, a clawed arm shot through the opening, seizing his head in a vice-like grip and yanking him outside. His scream was cut off in an instant.

  A sickening chorus of inhuman screeches echoed from beyond the walls, each impact against the building sending violent tremors through the air.

  “Ayun!” Lirany’s voice trembled with terror.

  In the meantime, Ayun had slipped beneath the window, moving with sharp precision. He refused to let his gaze linger on what remained of the former occupant, forcing himself to stay focused. Without wasting a moment, he snatched a cloak from the coat rack, his hands swift and steady. Turning to Lirany, he draped it over her shoulders, knowing full well that her delicate dress offered little protection against the bone-chilling cold seeping into the air.

  Lirany parted her lips, ready to thank him, but at that very moment, one of the winged specters burst through the window. The creature flapped wildly, disoriented, and Ayun reacted instantly—yanking the girl aside just as the beast crashed into the opposite wall. Shaking itself off, the monster refocused and lunged.

  Ayun barely had time to move before its razor-sharp fangs sank deep into his wrist. Pain seared through him, but instinct took over. His free hand shot out, slamming onto the creature’s skull. It dropped lifelessly to the floor. Its jaw hung open in a grotesque spasm, a strange wound blooming at the center of its forehead—as if something had pierced straight through its skull. Its body twitched once, twice… then stilled forever.

  The bite looked bad, but Ayun merely pulled his sleeve over it and forced a reassuring smile at Lirany, who stared at him, frozen in terror.

  “Don’t just stand there!” Hachyro barked, his voice taut with urgency. “More of them will get inside!”

  Without another word, he bolted forward, the other two close behind. Another specter clawed through a shattered window, barely missing Lirany as she sprinted past. They were running straight for the stairs, descending as fast as their feet would carry them.

  Then a violent tremor rocked the building, knocking them off balance. Hachyro grabbed Lirany around the waist, leaping over half the staircase with terrifying ease. She yelped, horrified, but he didn’t slow down. Ayun landed on the next floor, but the moment his hand touched the railing for support, it began to tilt dangerously.

  “The building is collapsing! It’s going to—”

  But his voice was swallowed by the chaos. Right before their eyes, the stairs and railing crumbled, turning into a deadly avalanche of stone and dust. With nothing left to hold onto, they plunged into the abyss—swallowed whole by the ruins crashing down around them.

  The impact with the ground wrenched Ayun’s last clear thoughts from his mind, leaving him dazed by the avalanche of noise and the suffocating air around him. Instinctively, he reached for the magic deeply rooted within him. It erupted outward, forming a protective dome over them.

  He could feel the weight of the collapsing debris pressing against his shield, the strain building with every passing second. His heart pounded as he braced for the moment it would fail. Because right now, the only thing standing between them and total annihilation was that fragile barrier of magic. The deafening chaos stretched on for what felt like an eternity—then, suddenly, silence. But the pressure remained, draining him little by little. He lay sprawled on the floor, his breath ragged, unable to muster the strength to rise. Around him, there was only an impenetrable darkness.

  “Wh-where are we?” a timid voice broke the stillness—Lirany.

  She was scared. But she was alive. A few well-aimed curses followed, a sure sign that Hachyro had also survived.

  “Hachyro,” Ayun murmured weakly. “Can you describe what happened?”

  “What, can’t you see for yourself?” Hachyro shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Judging by the noise, he had just stood up—only to smack his head against something, which did nothing to improve his mood.

  “Well... no. I can’t see anything.”

  The oppressive silence that settled between them was almost tangible. Ayun could easily imagine Hachyro staring at him, his expression a mix of disbelief and outrage at his confession.

  “Oh, right. That little... inconvenient detail,” the arsian hissed, laced with sarcasm.

  “W-what do you mean?” Lirany whispered.

  Even though he couldn’t see her, Ayun could tell from her tone just how much this revelation had unsettled her.

  “It’s not just the lack of demonic blood that makes me different from other kitsune,” he explained slowly. “It’s my eyes. In total darkness, I’m completely blind.”

  For the first time, he truly understood how she had lived her entire life. Of all the senses, sight was, without a doubt, the most precious.

  “The building collapsed on top of us,” Hachyro began, his frustration barely concealed. “We’re trapped between slabs of stone and the floor. There’s barely half a meter of space, and—” he exhaled sharply, “—both you and Lirany are injured.”

  “No!” the girl gasped.

  Ayun realized she had mistaken his weakened voice for pain.

  “It’s nothing serious,” he assured her. “Nothing I can’t heal—but not right now.” He took a shuddering breath. “Hachyro, find us a way out. I... I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”

  Shock still numbed him, keeping the pain at bay. He had no idea what injuries tormented him. Closing his eyes—useless now—he remained still, listening to Lirany’s muffled sobs nearby.

  Over the years, he had honed his skill in barrier magic, but never before had he been forced to withstand such an immense weight. The magic within him was draining at an alarming rate, leaving him weaker with each passing second.

  “Lift the shield from the floor to your left,” Hachyro ordered, his voice sharp and commanding.

  Ayun obeyed without hesitation. He followed the instruction instantly, sensing an unfamiliar strength guiding his every move. Behind him, the air filled with the clash of the arsian’s twin tails. After several powerful strikes, a pale sliver of light—likely from the moon—pierced the darkness. Outside, the night had settled, but the cold air rushed in like a blessing.

  Ayun realized their prison was just as Hachyro had described—mere inches between the dusty floor and the collapsed ruins threatening to bury them.

  With careful movements, the arsian widened the gap enough to slip through, stepping out cautiously before motioning for them to follow. Lirany wriggled through first, desperate to escape the crushing confinement.

  Ayun hurried after her, forced to crawl through the tight space. But just as he was about to reach safety, only half a meter away from freedom, a strange, bone-chilling howl tore through the air, making him freeze in place.

  The building trembled under a new shock as something above them gave way, as if an invisible force had suddenly pressed down upon it. Ayun groaned, twisting onto his back and pressing his palms against the invisible shield holding back the mountain of debris. The effort had become unbearable; his magic was failing, and he no longer had the strength to sustain the barrier. Every additional movement pushed him closer to collapse, and with each passing second, he forgot to breathe, struggling against the overwhelming weight that was slowly but surely defeating him.

  Suddenly, a clawed hand seized his collar and yanked him free from beneath the crushing ruins. His concentration shattered, and he watched as his magical shield dissolved—an instant later, a cascade of stones came crashing down where he had just been.

  The fractured structure shuddered, groaning under its own instability. Then, to their immense relief, it collapsed westward, away from them. At its peak, a dark silhouette took flight, vanishing into the night like a phantom.

  Ayun staggered to his feet, gasping, his entire body trembling. He met Hachyro’s gaze, gratitude shining in his eyes.

  “Are you alright?” Lirany asked, her voice tight with worry.

  Blood matted the side of her face, and a large bruise glistened on her forehead, but she didn’t seem too badly hurt. Ayun glanced down at himself—besides the lingering pain from the creature’s bite, a deep gash ran along his let arm, bleeding profusely. It was superficial, though, and could wait for treatment later.

  Before he could respond, a winged creature landed just a few steps away. Its glowing red eyes locked onto them, and it let out a strange, chilling cry—a haunting echo of death itself. Realizing that the slightest hesitation could be fatal, the three scattered instantly, sprinting in different directions.

  Ayun dashed toward the northern part of the city, fully aware of the heavy footsteps closing in behind him. Exhausted from maintaining the magical shield, he moved far slower than the other two, making him an easy target. The beast must have sensed his weakness. When it tensed and leaped, claws outstretched, he threw himself into a narrow alleyway, diving behind a cluster of overturned barrels. He sucked in deep breaths, pressing his body against the ground, willing his heartbeat to slow.

  He had no idea what these creatures were, but he quickly realized that, like many predators, they hunted by sensing their prey’s emotions. Intense feelings—especially fear—worked like a beacon, drawing them in and ensuring they never missed a target.

  Luckily, Ayun had complete control over himself. He suppressed every sensation, banishing all emotions until he was nothing but stillness. The creature sniffed the air, searching, but without fear to guide it, it lost track of him.

  Moments later, distant screams split the night, pulling its attention away. With a beat of its wings, it soared into the sky, seeking another target.

  The young man exhaled in relief and rose to his feet, stepping cautiously toward the end of the alley. Little by little, the full scale of Tharym’s devastation unfolded before him. The city was a living nightmare. Countless buildings lay in ruins, while dozens of fires consumed everything in their path. Winged wraiths circled frenetically across the darkened sky, their unearthly cries piercing the air, while others prowled the streets. Bodies littered the ground—many missing vital parts.

  A biting cold seeped into his bones, his breath visible in the icy air. His thick clothes had been left behind in his room, but the thought of going back for them never crossed his mind. The temperature had dropped unnaturally for this time of year. Hugging his arms around himself for warmth, he stepped carefully into the marketplace. Several buildings had collapsed there, forcing him to weave through the debris, all while keeping an eye on a wraith soaring overhead.

  "A-Ayun..."

  A faint, wavering voice echoed through the night, stopping him in his tracks.

  Hrassin.

  Scanning the area, he finally spotted the familiar figure of the port’s sovereign, trapped beneath a mound of rubble. Ayun rushed toward him, but as he drew closer, horror clenched his chest. Half of the yokai’s body was crushed beneath a massive slab of marble—a rare and precious material in Tharym, once part of a grand building’s floor.

  Finding no significance in the stone’s value, Ayun bent down, gripping its edge with both hands and straining to lift it. Despite his efforts, the marble seemed fused to the ground, unmoved and indifferent to his struggle. Growling in frustration, he tried again, but exhaustion was seeping into every fiber of his body. Above him, a wraith hovered ominously, forcing him to crouch among the rubble like a fox hiding beneath dry branches. A cruel irony, given his nature!

  "They will find you if you stay here," Hrassin whispered, his voice unsteady. "Marslo has ordered... the city's evacuation. Make your way to the Tower and—"

  "Save your damned orders for later," Ayun hissed, grasping the slab’s edge again with furious determination. "I won’t let you die."

  Planting his feet firmly, he pushed with all his strength, feeling the rough stone scrape against his already raw fingers. But despite his desperate effort, the slab refused to budge. At that moment, footsteps echoed along the market’s cobbled alley. Ayun turned, hoping to see Lirany’s familiar figure emerging from the shadows. Instead, Hachyro appeared—his face smeared with soot, a deep, ugly gash above his brow.

  The arsian halted when he saw them, his fire-lit gaze shifting from Ayun to the trapped yokai, assessing the situation.

  "You look like you could use some help," he said, his voice free of hostility or resentment.

  "Please," Ayun replied.

  Hachyro studied the slab of marble for a few moments before gripping its edge, showing his willingness to help. Ayun joined him, and together, gritting their teeth, they pushed with all their might, adrenaline surging through their bodies. With a dull, heavy sound, the stone finally shifted, and Hrassin crawled out from beneath it, dragging himself to safety just before Ayun and Hachyro let the slab crash back down. Groaning in pain, the leader struggled to his feet, rubbing his bruised back.

  "Isn't that our girl, boy?" he muttered, nodding toward something at the edge of the square— a shadowed figure standing out amidst the chaos.

  A tiger-furred yokai in a spiked vest was walking down the ash-covered street, dragging Lirany behind him. She screamed, thrashing in his grip, kicking at him in a desperate attempt to break free, but her struggle was in vain. Frustrated, she finally bit him.

  The yokai cursed and violently threw her to the ground.

  "You little bitch!" he roared, his fury erupting.

  He raised his hand to strike her, but the blow never landed. Ayun had lunged between them, seizing the yokai’s wrist in a firm grip, stopping his arm mid-air. The feline eyes of the yokai, a burning gold, locked onto Ayun’s, green and brimming with determination.

  “What the hell are you doing?” the stranger asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

  “Leave her alone,” Ayun replied, his tone ice-cold.

  He suddenly recalled the yokai’s name—Jarlo. They had worked together last winter, maintaining the port’s ships for a few weeks. But despite that collaboration, they had never become friends.

  “Are you blind? The girl has magic in her blood! We’ll use her as bait! The spirits will tear her apart, and in their moment of distraction, we’ll kill them! Get out of my way!”

  Jarlo wanted to sacrifice Lirany to save his own skin, a cowardly plan that filled Ayun with disgust. The girl staggered to her feet just as Hachyro caught up to her, blood dripping from his twin tails. Seeing the horror on her face, the arsian grimaced but gave a slight nod, allowing her to take refuge behind him.

  Hrassin, who had witnessed the scene earlier, was nowhere to be seen. Ayun let go of the tiger-striped yokai but didn’t move from his path.

  “The city is lost, Jarlo! Killing one or two of those spirits—whatever they are—won’t bring Tharym back to life!”

  Jarlo’s furious gaze flicked from him to Hachyro and Lirany. It didn’t take much effort to put the pieces together. A strange expression crossed his face, as if every suspicion he’d ever had about the emerald-eyed young man had just been confirmed.

  “You’re protecting them!” he spat, pointing an accusing finger at Hachyro. “You’re betraying Lord Hrassin, betraying Tharym for… for that cursed Tower! You’re shielding a human and a stray!”

  “I’m betraying no one!” Ayun shot back, exasperated. “Our only chance of survival is to leave the city!”

  “Let me kill the girl, and you can do whatever you want! Move!”

  “I refuse.”

  Never before in Tharym had anyone protected a human—unless they planned to keep them for themselves as food. Jarlo’s face twisted with rage as he drew his sword in one fluid, practiced motion, aiming it at Ayun’s chest. But the fight never began.

  Ragged, wheezing breaths, accompanied by eager, wet smacking sounds, made them lift their gaze. Dozens of creatures with blood-red eyes lurked atop the ruined buildings around them, running their forked tongues over their elongated snouts, savoring the sight of their long-awaited prey.