The Drychta staggered out from the base of the mountains, many on fire. I watched others jump off higher peaks, screaming as the flames consumed them until they were but balls of light, falling like rain.

As they plunged down, I saw them change. Their bodies warped and shifted. They did not hit the ground with lifeless thuds, but with raspy chitterings and undulations as their midsections broke and re-formed and gave way to new segmented bodies, horrible insect-like mutations fused with mammalian limbs. Still burning, they skittered forward, shrugging off the fires like they had their humanity, creeping toward the stricken Odalians and Yadoshans who retreated from the sight. Nothing in their training had prepared them for such macabre alchemy.

It was the nanghait that saved them. Rushing forward with its trunk-like legs, the daeva scooped up the first of the grotesque insects. Its jaws unhinged, and it stuffed the creature into its gaping maw, its crunching curdling my blood. Another insect leaped forward, but the nanghait was ceaseless, simply shifting its head to present a second hungry face to consume a fresh meal, and then another, and another.

The taurvi lifted its head and sang a lullaby, a seductive melody that should not have been possible from those ruined mandibles, those protruding fangs. The blighted Drychta slowed, transfixed by the sound, as did other soldiers nearby—including me. It stole into my head, erasing all emotions in me but rapture. All thought of fleeing, or moving, slipped away. The aeshma lumbered close, ignoring us. It rolled itself into a ball and mowed down the immobile Drychta without pause, stampeding through the flock even as they sat and listened to its brother daeva’s deathsong.

But the savul was a much more brutal beast; it clawed eagerly into anyone close enough to obstruct its path, and I could hear General Lode over the din, yelling at the rest to fall back, to keep away from the daeva.

The zarich breathed ice and mist. The crackling stole up Drychta legs, rendering them useless as it sliced through their scaled bodies. And still, the azi above us continued its pillaging, promising more infernos.

The others had not been idle. Arcs of Fire and Ice and Wind and Lightning filled the sky as the asha and the Deathseekers attacked, halting the Drychta’s progress. Lord Agnarr and his men knelt, hands firm against the ground. The nearest Drychta took a step and sank into unexpected quicksand. The earth shuddered as spikes jutted out without warning, impaling others.

“Tea!” Lord Fox rode into view, cutting down every Drychta in his path. His eyes were trained on the azi flying overhead, and he exchanged his blade for a bow that was strapped across his shoulders. He strung an arrow and loosened it quickly when the three-headed daeva sailed nearer to the ground. There was no visible wound, but the azi veered away.

“Tell your pet to stop burning the Hollows, you idiot!” the man roared up at the sky. “You’ll burn everything!”

The Dark asha heard him. The zarich stomped forward and took a deep gargle of air. Mist formed around my mouth even as the cold extended into the mountain, containing the conflagration for the moment.

But her brother was far from done. He leaped off Chief and sliced his way through the rest of the Drychta. His eyes were on the savul, still on its rampage. He cut down the remaining blighted—and drove his sword into the daeva, bloodying its shin.

Its roar was one of surprise. For a moment, it seemed recognition blazed behind its yellow, bulging eyes. Its maimed claw, after all, had been responsible for the man’s death. Still caught in its bloodlust, the daeva swung at him. Lord Fox did nothing to deter the attack. Its talon slashed through his chest.

Both reeled back unexpectedly. The savul shrilled from some invisible pain. The undead general sank to the ground with his hand over his lacerated chest and his mouth pulled back in a snarl, gulping air he did not require. From above, the azi’s reaction was immediate. It landed beside the savul, stumbling in its haste. The first to jump off its back was Lord Kalen, slamming his blade against a blighted Drychta’s unprotected side when it ventured near.

“Fox!” She had changed much since the last time I had seen her. Her hair streamed behind her like the night, clothed in the hua of three dragons she had worn at our first meeting, dark eyes still a mystery, but her cheeks had hollowed and her skin had lost some of its luster. An unspoken thought passed between her and Fox, between her and Kalen, between her and her daeva—and both savul and azi turned to protect the three, snapping and clawing at the dwindling Drychta still putting up a fight.

“You did it on purpose,” she seethed, her voice cutting deeper than the Deathseeker’s knives of wind.

Lord Fox smiled grimly before the azi obscured them from my view.

I don’t remember how long the battle lasted. I cowered behind the Deathseekers as they wove rune after rune after rune, blanketing the sky with barriers invisible to my eyes. Occasionally, I caught sight of a flare of debris when it came into contact with those magical shields, the way a sword’s tip might drag against another blade and send up sparks. I huddled with the wounded and injured, scrabbling to bring them closer to the blockade the Odalians had erected, hoping that no wayward rune or daeva attack would find us. I could no longer see the trio; the azi and the savul still blocked my sight, snapping and slicing at anyone or anything that drew too close.

The zarich won its war against the flames. Smoke rose from the mountains, and the Drychta who were still unchanged staggered out coughing, averting their faces, lifting their hands to plead surrender. Only the blighted continued their losing fight, assaulting the combined armies until every last one of them were killed.

Bereft of enemies, all the daeva—save for the azi—turned their backs on us and moved rapidly toward the sea. They waded in with little preamble. The waves washed over their heads, and they were gone before we could react.

Were they running away, I wondered, or toward something else?

It was only when one of the Gorvekai—Solveiga—nudged me gently with her foot that I realized that the battle was over. “The Faceless has gone too far this time,” she said soberly. “To change a nation of people into abominations—now do you understand why the strongest is not always the worthiest?”

There were heavy casualties on both sides of the conflict. Many of the soldiers had been ripped apart by the beasts, but among the blighted, none survived. The still-human Drychta, now docile, sat on the ground, watched over by a group of asha. General Lode questioned one, and the prisoner was all too eager to respond.

“Aadil is missing” came his terse report. “They do not know if he still remains in the mountains.”

“He does not.” The Dark asha stood before us, her face smudged from dirt and ash. Her familiars stood beside her. The generals and commanders of the army lifted their swords as one, watching the bone witch with distrust. Only Khalad and Lord Agnarr were nonplussed.

The horrific wound on Lord Fox’s chest that would have been mortal on anyone else had vanished. “I remembered this,” the familiar said. “On Mithra’s Wall—you reached out to me—”

“So it was you back then,” she said, and her voice broke my heart. “I wondered if I had dreamed it out of longing. Or if I’d gone insane, as you feared.”

“Tea—”

She stepped away. “Don’t,” she begged. “Later. Please.”

Her brother’s mouth curved down at the corners, scowling, worried.

She smiled wanly at King Kance. “Drycht,” she says, “is kingless.”

“Did you kill him, Tea?”

“We have very different interpretations of what death means, Your Majesty.”

“Tea, you look unwell. Please, let me—”

“Nothing is happening that shouldn’t be, Your Majesty.” She moved toward her azi. “I must go.”

“No!” Lord Fox grabbed her arm. “You will not leave until I’ve had every answer out of you!”

“Fox is right.” The Odalian noble was tired and adamant. “We have many questions—”

The Dark asha laughed. We were all taken aback by the unnaturally loud, high-pitched strangeness of it. “Have you finally decided to take my head, Your Majesty?”

“I am more interested in your answers.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Do not make it harder for us, Tea.”

“On the contrary, it will be quite easy.”

Lethargy stole into my bones. My lips moved, but no sound came out. I could not walk. I could not speak. Instead, my knees sank of their own volition into the hard soil. I saw King Kance’s eyes widen as he did the same. So did the generals and soldiers, the wounded and the healthy, the asha and the Deathseekers. The bone witch’s mark was on us all, and we were helpless in the face of her Compulsion. Only the Gorvekai remained on their feet, proving their duplicity. Lord Fox was upright too, but he made no move.

The bone witch let out a gasp, her hand flying to her chest. Lord Kalen took her in his arms, his own face grim and strained. “You’re overexerting yourself again, love.”

She grinned wanly. “Nothing you wouldn’t have done in my place.”

“What are you doing, Tea?” Lord Fox whispered.

“What you wouldn’t let me do if you had your way.”

“Tea!” Lady Zoya burst through the crowd but stumbled and fell to the ground as well, her hand dropping. Still she mustered strength to blister the air with words. “Let—us—go! You cannot do this!”

“Zoya. For once in your life, shut up and listen. You want answers?” The Lady Tea’s voice rose, mocking. “You shall have them. You intend to invade Drycht after this victory at the Hollows, to depose Aadil once and for all. Instead, you will face civilians and innocents with the blight. As soon as the first of you sets foot on Drychta soil, they will turn, and you will find nothing to save, only a city of monsters hungering for your flesh. Druj has cast a large net. The Faceless will have the people suffer to kill as many of you as needed. Druj doesn’t intend this to be a war—he intends it to be a massacre.”