Dawn broke with blood on the wind.
They had barely crossed the valley when the attack came. A dozen mercenaries, their armor bearing the crest of House Valcroft, leapt from the rocks.
"Kill the girl! Bring her head!"
Aric barely had time to draw steel. The mercenaries rushed in waves, blades glinting. He moved on instinct—parrying, striking, blood spraying. Yet even with his skill, they pressed too many.
Then the air shifted.
Serenya raised her hand, and the crimson mark on Aric's chest blazed in response. His body flooded with unnatural strength, movements faster, strikes sharper. It felt like his veins carried dragonfire itself.
He cut through the mercenaries like a storm. But when the last man fell, gasping in the dirt, Aric collapsed to one knee, chest heaving, the mark scorching him from within.
"What… did you do to me?" he spat, trembling.
Serenya's eyes glowed like molten gold. "You carry my flame now. Every life you take feeds our bond."Aric's fist tightened around his bloodied sword. He couldn't tell if he was becoming stronger—or if he was being consumed.