My pulse stuttered, an icy dread coiling in my stomach.
Figures appeared at the far edge of the lawn—thousands of them, flanked by hulking shifters. As they drew closer, something felt… off.
Their movements were jerky. Unnatural. Their faces slack. Vacant.
My breath caught.
They weren’t alive.
Eris’s army was made of corpses.
She had revived the dead.
24
Alister
Agents swarmed past me as the academy’s protective wards shattered.
My stomach dropped.
This was it.
I hoped my human form could keep down the food I had eaten.
A familiar hulking figure appeared at my side.
Ryker.
His dark eyes scanned the chaos, his muscles coiled beneath tattooed skin.
“My men,” he growled. “The ones patrolling the perimeter of the wards. They’re not responding.”
My worry for Evelyn made me hesitate. I didn’t want to leave her, but we could potentially intercept some of Eris’s followers and lessen the burden. “Let’s investigate quickly.”
Ryker nodded, his body already shifting. Scales erupted across his skin as his limbs elongated into powerful haunches and wings.
A massive dragon stood before me in seconds, smoke curling from his nostrils.
I climbed onto his back. Then we were airborne, the wind whipping my hair as Ryker soared toward the southern border.
He banked sharply, nearly unseating me. I clung tighter—this was not the time to fall.
As we neared the perimeter, dread pooled in my stomach. Something was very wrong. Where were the agents? Where was everyone?
“Land here,” I instructed, pointing to a clearing.
Ryker touched down with surprising grace for his size. I slid off his back, scanning our surroundings. The eerie silence pressed against my ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Not a single bird chirped, nor leaves rustled in the wind.
“I don’t like this,” I muttered.
Ryker shifted back to his human form, his muscles rippling as he straightened. He cocked his head, listening intently with the acute senses of a shifter.
“Over here,” he said, his voice a low growl, pointing to a cluster of bushes.
We pushed through to find the bodies of Ryker’s men, the shifters who had been patrolling the perimeter. They lay in unnatural positions, eyes open, vacant, and completely drained of magic.
“Fuck,” Ryker swore, his fists clenching. The veins in his neck stood out, and his eyes burned with anger and sorrow.