Wolf’s Bane and Roses
The baby cried, louder this time, but her cries seemed to carry a strange resonance, as if the very woods shuddered in response.
The assassins closed in. I could hear their boots, their growls, their laughter.
“Kill the brat first,” one hissed.
“No!” My scream tore from my chest, raw and primal.
The first blade slashed toward us and then, light erupted.
Roses glowed, soft at first, then blinding. The pearl inside her flared, sending a pulse of power that knocked the assassin backward as though struck by an invisible hand.
He hit a tree with a sickening crack.
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