Azael pressed himself as flat to the ground as possible, pinning Raxys's sheathed blade beneath his legs in the process to avoid the weapon from making any noise. He had a dagger in his grasp, though with luck he wouldn't have to use it.

    He steadied his breaths until they were noiseless as heavy boots marched into view. He spared a thought to wish his body was a little more compact, even though he knew the bracken was covering him entirely. It would simply make him feel less conspicuous.

    He held his breath as the warriors, six in total, strode beneath Talarion's tree and came into his sight. Dismay pooled in the pit of his stomach. They were from Lochren. If this led to a fight, would Talarion be willing to possibly kill his own people? He waited impatiently for the group to move along, but they seemed content to mill about this area.

    Presently, two of them broke off and moved ahead, but the rest remained behind. "Think we might be done here soon?" One of the male's asked, catching Azael's attention. "We've scoped out this area three times and found nothing."

    Another male who he guessed to be the group's leader answered. His voice was deep and gruff, layered with a slightly different accent from the rest. "We pull out when we're given the order to and not before."

    "But if we're just wasting our time..."

    "Lord Roshan would not keep us here if he believed we were wasting time. This is the area he believed they would be heading to, and his source hasn't been wrong yet."

    Azael's eyes narrowed. He already had a good idea of what it was Roshan had his warriors searching for, but the male's last sentence... Had someone been following them this whole time? It wasn't possible. They would've noticed. Unless...

    A chill ran down his spine. Astaroth. If the Spawn had been hidden somewhere in the Vidar like Kaius, Talarion, and Tissaia suspected, he could've been following them this whole time without them knowing. And if he really was able to glean information from Kaius's visions somehow, and had been passing it along to Roshan Lochren for some dark purpose...

    Azael's heartbeat quickened. They might have no choice but to kill these warriors. It would announce their presence to Roshan when he inevitably learned about it, but they couldn't have such a large group on their trail. He stiffened as the two warriors who had departed came stalking back.

    "We found signs of a large animal, possibly a wolf or a bear, in the area, but no Fae."

    The leader rubbed his bearded chin. "Track the animal," he ordered.

    The two scouts glanced at each other. "Why?" One asked.

    "It might be one of the Fae we're looking for, and even if it's not, it will make a hearty meal, don't you think?" The mountain male flashed them a cold grin, revealing teeth sharper than the average Fae's.

    Azael had heard rumors that the males from the mountain Clans would grind their teeth into sharper points to make it easier to eat the tough meat of whatever animals they were able to hunt in the mountains, and to use as weapons, but he'd never known it to be true. Then there were the females of the Clans, rumoredly witches of some kind.

    He had read about the Matrons in ancient history texts from the Elder Age, and their strange, dark practices. They were the ones to sharpen the males' teeth, and did so to their own as well, but their teeth were used for bloodletting in their rituals.

    What little he knew about the Mountain Fae was enough to tell him why they were best left alone, and he couldn't help but wonder how Roshan Lochren was on good enough terms with them to have brought several males back to train his son. Perhaps this was one of those very males.

    Azael tightened his grip on his dagger as the scouts set off once more, this time to hunt Vael. He hoped the male was already on his way to regroup with the others, though he didn't doubt he could hold his own if the need arose. As for himself and Talarion, he knew they wouldn't be able to slip away undetected. They were going to have to take down the four remaining males while they still had the element of surprise.

    Azael was already scanning the group for his first target. His initial move would have to be fast. Fast enough to incapacitate his target and disorient the others, giving him time to launch his second attack while Talarion joined in. He already knew there would be no need to signal the male.

    The minute Talarion saw him attack, he would as well. Perhaps he might advise against it, but they weren't in a position to discuss a plan. He was going to have to rely on his own judgement, and trust they were skilled enough not to get themselves killed. He slid the blade of his dagger between his teeth and raised himself slightly, gathering his knees close to his chest as he braced himself to lunge.

    His sights were set on a male directly in front of him. Amber magic fizzled at Azael's fingertips while he shielded himself. He kept his magic glowing hot as he drew a steadying breath, then burst from the bracken and clamped his palm to the back of the male's head. It erupted with a spray of blood and matter, just as he'd done to the Blood Fae before.

    Startled cries broke out around him, but he'd already flung his dagger into the throat of another male and was drawing his sword. Wind hissed overhead before Talarion dropped onto the third male, plunging his dagger through his skull all the way to its hilt. He wrenched the blade free and nailed his gaze to the mountain male, baring his teeth bared in a snarl.

    The leader's butchered grin spread wider. "Well, well. If it isn't the wayward Prince and my young Lord. Just who I've been searching for."

    "Find us will be your last mistake, Kyrgan," Talarion hissed.

    "I'm sure it will." The male pulled a hefty double-bladed ax from its sheath at his back, and Talarion was already bearing down on him.

•༻☽☾༺•

    Talarion rolled beneath the male's first attack and slashed his blade towards Kyrgan's leather-clad thigh. Skin sliced and blood misted the air. A smile split his lips at the coppery scent and Talarion unsheathed a second blade as his former mentor rounded on him. The ax sang through the air, but he bent over backwards, easily dodging it.

    He had righted himself before Kyrgan caught up with his own momentum and snaked around the male's exposed side, sinking his blade in until bone crunched. A heavy fist lashed out at him and Talarion caught it against his forearm, but staggered back from the force of the blow.

    Another punch connected with his nose before he could dodge again and he reeled backwards. Spots dotted his vision and he could already feel sticky warmth dripping from his nostrils as he shook his head. When his vision cleared, he found Azael bracing his sword against Kyrgan's ax. The Mountain Fae had his back to him, and Talarion didn't waste the advantage.

    He flung himself at the male's back and stabbed beneath the armored pauldron protecting his shoulder. He ripped his dagger loose and stabbed the spot again and again, until the male gave an enraged howl. He reached back with one hand and snatched Talarion by the neck. He retched under the pressure though it was short-lived. Kyrgan slammed him into the ground hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

    Talarion rolled onto his stomach and forced himself to all fours as he gasped for breath. Azael had renewed his attack to prevent Kyrgan from tackling him once more, granting Talarion a moment's recovery. He smeared a hand beneath his nose before his fist closed around his dagger. Talarion ignored the blotch of red left on his skin and joined the Prince in his attack.

    Azael had suffered a blow to the arm in the few minutes he was downed, judging by the crimson stain spilling down his sleeve. But together, they shoved Kyrgan back several paces, each of them managing to land some well placed wounds. Kyrgan stumbled to his knees with their next attack but lashed out with his ax. They leaped back, narrowly missing the blow.

    Recognizing his opportunity, Talarion latched a hand around Azael's injured arm and dredged up his healing magic. The male gave a sharp hiss as his flesh began to knit back together, but he didn't pull away. Kyrgan seethed up at them with dark eyes, and slowly, his malicious grin returned.

    "Think of the warrior you could've been if your father had allowed us to take you back to our Clan, young Lord. You could've been a warrior that even Roshan Lochren had the sense to fear. Though I suppose that would've placed you too far out of his reach, wouldn't it?"

    Talarion bared his teeth at the words. "I'd be doing you a favor by killing you today," Kyrgan continued. "But those are not my orders." He steadied himself against his ax and shoved to his feet. "We know you're looking for the gods' artifact. Come willingly and tell your father what you know, and I'll leave the rest of your companions alone, your twin included. Let your father send someone else to retrieve her and the Phoenix."

    "I have nothing to say to my father," Talarion spat. "And you will never lay a hand on my sister again, regardless." Azael went rigid beside him.

    "You're about to force me to," Kyrgan chuckled. "We always achieved our desired results from you when the ulterior price was Tissaia's flesh. Though perhaps it was sometimes for my own enjoyment too. She did bleed so pretty, like a little white rose stained red."

    A fierce snarl tore from Azael's lips and he threw himself at the male before Talarion even realized he'd pried his arm free. For a split second, he could only stare at the unfamiliar Prince before him. Azael's blue eyes were wild with rage and Kyrgan's arms shook as he caught each blow from the male's blade, proof of the wrathful force behind it.

    Magic pulsed at his fingertips and as Kyrgan doubled beneath one blow, Azael's hand locked around his wrist and the male began to scream, amber light searing through the veins within his arm. Before Kyrgan could recover enough to attack again, Talarion seized his arm which still held his ax. He sliced his dagger clean through the male's wrist and his hand opened as he shrieked anew, the ax falling to the ground.

    Talarion tossed his dagger up, freeing his hand, and caught the bloodied blade between his teeth while he tightened his grip on Kyrgan's arm and wrenched it backwards. There was a resounding pop as it dislocated from his shoulder, followed by a nauseating crack when Talarion broke the limb for good measure. Kyrgan's scream shifted to a roar that promised vengeance, but they wouldn't give him the chance.

    Talarion slashed his second dagger across Kyrgan's throat and Azael shoved his sword through his chest, all the way to the hilt. He gave the blade a sharp twist, then ripped it free. Talarion held Kyrgan's gaze as blood poured from the male's wounds. His lips moved, but no words could form around the blood and severed muscles. He held the male's gaze while Kyrgan sank lower to the ground, then collapsed onto his side. He gave one last choking cough and his eyes dimmed, his body sagging with release.

    Talarion jerked as a hand clasped his shoulder. "Come on," Azael urged. "We need to make sure those scouts haven't hurt Vael, and then we have to catch up with the others." He gave a curt nod and turned to follow the Prince, leaving one of the ghosts of his past cooling in a puddle of blood without so much as a backwards glance.