The deformed hound-amalgamation and the hunter eyed each other over the roil of the battlefield.

  The beast burst forward, leaping towards him with unnatural speed, hulking cleaver ready to strike. Its eyes lit, and the brutal weapon zipped towards him in a blur. Wretch twisted to the side, the cut missing his shoulder by a hair's breadth.

  Wretch lunged straight for it, his own eyes burning to life. From under his ripped coat, a dozen fleshy protrusions burst forward, twisting together into a dozen human hands, newborn and pale. The form of Milley, given life through Flesh Weave, flame, and surge of concentration.

  The hands caught the beast’s fur, and he clung to the creature like a spider of human flesh. The creature yelped, snapping one of his newly conjured arms clean off with a crunch.

  That pain meant nothing to Wretch, and hands ripped swaths of fur and bent joints. A claw slashed his neck, and the tongue spat another blob of acidic saliva. He blocked with expendable flesh and answered with a dozen hands, forcefully twisting one of its elbows with a crack.

  Neither man nor beast found an advantage.

  Then, like paper burning in reverse, the Blinking blade appeared in one of his many hands. He slammed it into the patchy fur, punching through the back and digging deep between the ribs. They both tumbled into the dirt.

  The heavy and reeking creature landed on top of him. The wide head wailed, sputtering acidic sludge. The substance burned his skin and crumpled the scales of his chest. It clawed at him with unrestrained anger.

  Wretch matched the savagery. Hands tearing, claws ripping through skin, blade cutting.

  The beast’s eyes widened. It was losing a battle of brutality.

  Its ferocity faltered for a moment, and the Blinking Blade drove into its throat. The body shuddered, blood spraying like a leaking steam valve. Then it grew limp.

  Wretch shoved it off, his extra arms slithering back into his skin, spotted by burn marks and wounds. He licked the vile blood from the back of his hand, but had no time to check if a new form appeared around his flame.

  The creature's cleaver lay buried in mud, and he pushed against it to stand.

  Knowledge sparked in his mind, and he raised a bloodied eyebrow.

  A few paces away, Elenya was a storm of violence. Three creatures circled her, many more lay dead at her feet. They lunged from three angles. Her halberd cleaved one from shoulder to hip. Lodging deep into the pelvis, it was stuck, and a spear shot towards her throat.

  A cleaver spun out of the mist, shattering the spear into splinters and sinking into the ground.

  “Take it,” Wretch shouted through the fog.

  Elenya dove for the cleaver. Turning with a fierce twist and fiery eyes, she slashed with the hulking mass of metal, cleaving two bodies like paper. A dismembered creature screamed until Elenya stomped its skull with a crack.

  “Clear the front!” Edmund’s shout came from above.

  “Let's go!” Wretch said, darting along the train. Deeper in the mist, Lukka’s silhouette ripped something to pieces.

  In the front, a jumble of tree trunks lay jammed under the train.

  From the mist, a short laugh echoed. Two charging dogmen with spears rushed towards them. Wretch’s skin boiled as two massive arms plunged out of his back. Jonah's form.

  Elenya cleaved one in half. Wretch seized the other with a massive hand, still not fully formed. It squirmed as he lifted it and hurled it towards the train. Impaling it on the train’s metal spikes with a thud.

  More still came.

  On the other side of the locomotive, the creatures were climbing the spikes, dead bodies forming a ramp for their kin to ascend. On top, Edmund and Dalynja’s frontliner were slaying hounds by the handful.

  “I only have one fourth of flame left!” Wretch shouted, Form Weave guzzling through his reserves.

  He froze.

  Something moved in the mist, something large. It was wider than a cart, crawling on a dozen mismatched paws. A mass of melded houndlike features, a singular head, twisted from several maws and eyes.

  Krack, Living Litter.

  “That one looks like bad news,” Elenya said, ripping free an arrow lodged in her armor.

  “Cannons in front!” Wretch shouted.

  The creature shrieked, a gurgling howl through a jumble of vocal cords. If the operators had heard him, or the beast, he didn’t know, but a cannon roared back.

  The shot tore a red crater in the beast, pushing it backwards. It growled and lumbered forward, its hide quivering. The wounds, oozing blood, stitched themselves together in a fashion much like his own.

  That’s a first. Maybe I should have expected it, Wretch though.

  Elenya touched his arm, and a trickle of flame flowed through him. The necklace on her chest gave a soft glow. The medallion taken from the Gulschaks.

  “One strike,” Wretch said, lifting a log with a monstrous arm. “Chop or rip its head off.”

  "Good plan.”

  The hulking brute charged forward like a writhing mass of fur and muscle. Wretch hurled the log. Krack slammed it aside, its handful of eyes locked to the two hunters.

  Then he heard it, a faint chorus sweeping through the mist, almost unnoticeable under the clamor of screams and crackling steam cannons.

  The beast must have heard it too. The hulking brute froze, its bloodlust seeping from its visage. The howls and unsettling laughs abruptly stopped. Krack snarled, slamming a twisted fist into the ground in frustration.

  It gave them a look, saliva dripping from its twisted snout, then it turned, retreating into the mist. The lesser of its kin yelped and fled with it, leaving the bloodied hunters alone in a field of corpses.

  Elenya leaned on the massive cleaver.

  “That’s right, y’all ain’t shit.”

  She was splattered in blood, cut and bruised, while Wretch’s torso was marred by a dozen shallow wounds and burn marks, blood of the hounds painting him red from head to toe.

  “Why did they run?” Wretch said as the arms slithered back under his skin.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Barely got to use this beauty,” Elenya said, patting the hilt of the cleaver.

  Edmund jumped down from above, his armor riddled with broken arrows.

  “Gulner’s hit. Astrid is tending to him,” he said as his feet hit the ground. “But we need to move. We beat them this time, but they’ll be back.”

  Wretch gazed into the mist. He had seen it calm, even swirling. But now, it roiled like an ocean storm.

  A vibration traveled up along his boots. Faint, almost unnoticeable.

  He crouched, pressing an ear to the ground.

  Elenya groaned. “Oh bloody hell, I know that look.”

  “Tremors from the east,” Wretch said. “Big, and heavy.”

  A tide of whispers washed over them, like a chorus of a thousand people sputtering in fear.

  “They didn’t flee from us…” Wretch whispered through sharp teeth.

  The other hunter’s eyes grew wide.

  “Clear the debris, NOW!” Edmund shouted up to the train, its exterior littered with impaled hounds.

  The door swung open. Dalynja and her armored hunter rushed out. Jakob, the man in armor, had a fresh scar where his left eye used to be, and blood drenched his metal gear.

  “Gulner is in critical condition. Get the train moving!” Dalynja shouted. A strung crossbow in her hand.

  “We have other problems,” Edmund said, ripping out a splintered log. “Something is coming!”

  Wretch and Elenya tore at the jammed logs, wedged under the metal frame, and the other hunters were quick to follow.

  Another tremor hit.

  “I feel it!” Jakob said, voice brimming with panic.

  “Full throttle forward!” Edmund shouted into the cabin. The engine shrieked, straining against the barricade.

  A thick log wedged under the front refused to budge. The four hunters pushed with all their might. Wretch risked a glance towards the mist. A figure towering over the trees far in the distance, wading towards them. Two glowing, fiery eyes cut through the fog. It made a shiver jolt down his spine, and whispers roar in his ears.

  “What… is that?” Wretch said.

  The other paused, following his gaze.

  Vamir, The Voice Forgotten.

  “Don’t look at it!” Edmund roared.

  “Screw this,” Elenya said, pushing her cleaver behind the log and bending it.

  Another tremor, this one strong enough to rattle the metal of the train.

  Wretch used the very last of his flame. A grotesque arm burst from his back, pulling at the log with all his might. Edmund strained, Dalynja’s frontliner grew red from effort, and Elenya’s skin was tinted red. Even Lukka joined in, gnawing at the stick.

  With a heave, the log pulled free, rolling into the mud

  The next tremor lifted Wretch off his feet.

  The train staggered forward, grinding over dirt and carcasses. The hunters scrambled, boots slipping on gore to get into the accelerating train. Astrid was by the door, pulling them in one by one. Wretch, second to last, turned. Elenya knelt in the muck, digging a glowing coal out of a Blessed corpse.

  “Elenya!” Wretch shouted. “Leave it!”

  “But the coals—”

  “LEAVE THEM!”

  He glanced to the west. The figure was closing in, a wave of fog rolling before it. A blast of sorrowful whispers rattled their bones, and Wretch fought to keep the contents of his stomach.

  Elenya cursed and limped for the train.

  Wretch grabbed Astrid by the wrist. She pulled him through the door with a jerk. Behind him, Elenya struggled as the train picked up speed. Edmund reached out of the cabin, grabbed the girl’s wrist, and hauled her inside. Wretch slammed the door shut as another muffled chorus shook the cabin.

  The hunters took a few raspy breaths.

  “I am out of flame,” Astrid said.

  “I have some to spare,” Elenya answered, struggling to her feet and revealing the Linked flame medallion around her neck.

  She put a hand on Astrid’s shoulder, and her eyes lit up. Astrid returned the favor, placing a hand on both of them. Wretch felt the warmth of her powers, so unlike his own, mending his wounds.

  “Thank you!” Wretch said, rubbing gore from his face. “Where is Gulner?” He continued, looking over the cabin workers clutching tools like weapons, eyes wide with horror.

  “Still up top,” Astrid said. “He’s not good, but I have some more flame now.”

  She darted up the ladder.

  “Full speed ahead,” Edmund said, then followed her. The other hunter joined, hair whipping as they climbed onto the roof.

  The train charged through the thinning mist, fleeing whatever more inhabited it. He glanced back, spotting a silhouette disappearing in the haze, and for a moment, Wretch let some tension disperse.

  In front, Astrid knelt beside a man lying on the roof. He was soaked in red, a gruesome gash ripping open his sternum, an entire chunk of his torso clearly missing. Wretch recognized him, Gulner. Dalynja’s hunter with the Blessed weapon.

  The cannon operators were still at their posts. Scanning the mist.

  They gathered around the healer. Astrid pressed her hands to his chest. Her power knitted wounds shut. But unlike his, couldn’t heal what wasn’t there. The hunter’s breath was ragged and wet, the skin pale blue.

  “Will he survive?” Dalynja asked with a strained voice.

  “Give me a minute,” Astrid answered, wiping sweat from her brow.

  Wretch looked at the man. Each breath was more labored than the last.

  He was dying.

  At last Astrid pulled away her trembling hands. “I have done everything I can... I am sorry.”

  Dalynja fell to her knees. Gulner’s dull eyes met hers.

  “You did your part, Gulner.” She whispered. “I will make sure it was worth it, no matter what.”

  His lips moved, but produced no sound. He took a deep final breath and became still.

  “Why…” Dalynja said in a quiet tone. “Why is the world like this?”

  “My condolences,” Edmund said.

  Dalynja sighed, clearly struggling with something.

  Gulner’s veins shifted under his skin.

  “It has to change,” she said, unaware.

  Gulner’s legs strained. His chest heaving, drawing in air again.

  “What’s happening to him?” Elenya asked, taking a step forward.

  “I have no idea,” Astrid said, stumbling backwards.

  Gulner convulsed, writhing like a worm in water. Limbs flailed, hair grew on his arms. His face warped, the bones shifting beneath the skin.

  “Dalynja! End it!” Edmund shouted, taking a step forward.

  She paled, drawing a dagger from her belt. Gulner’s jaw cracked as it elongated. He snapped a hand towards her, fingers twisting in all directions. Elenya pulled her back. He rolled onto his stomach, neck twisting unnaturally, then lunged for the railing.

  Edmund’s and Wretch’s blades flashed, but Gulner was faster, tumbling into the mist below. His masterwork crossbow was still slung over his shoulder.

  And he was gone.

  “DAMN THIS CURSED PLACE,” Dalynja shouted after him before falling to her knees.

  "Damn it all…”

  Wretch felt a weight in his stomach. Gulner seemed like the honest, jolly type. He’d learned those never lasted.

  The train burst through the mist, the light blinding their eyes. Two suns hung beyond thin clouds. Outcroppings and jutting stones littered the landscape with groups of pines clinging to the harsh land.

  Behind them, stretched a silent valley of perpetual mist, like a lake of spilled milk. The creature was in there somewhere.

  The tracks led upwards, overtaking a hill to reveal a dark iron bridge spanning a rushing river. Beyond it, a fortress was carved atop the ridge. Its ancient walls of crumbling stone, hastily repaired by bands of iron and soot-stained brick. It looked like an ancient carcass of a regal beast, hastily taxidermied by twined wire and cloth.

  “Sternthal,” Edmund said with a sigh.

  Behind its towers and chimneys rose the Scar Spines, a mountain range worthy of its name. Like a crashing wave frozen a moment before it hits the shore. Spiked peaks jutting through a lowland of mist and snow. Wretch had seen them before, but only from miles away. This close, they seemed monstrous.

  A pulse of painful heat and mad ravings burst through his system, made worse by the low flame left in his system. He held his breath, focusing on the vibrations under his feet until they settled.

  He looked up at Elenya, her eyes burning with fire for a heartbeat. They had kindled, taking another step towards a higher tier of power.

  Five times kindled, at least five more to go.

  Elenya leaned over, putting her lips close to his ear.

  “I’ll be right beside you soon, Fireling. Don’t end up like Gulner before I do.”

  Wretch shook his head, staring at the fortress and the waves of mountains behind it. “A pity. I hope he isn’t suffering, whatever he is now.”

  The train dashed over the bridge towards the lone stronghold of Sternthal, the western rim of Nov Yanosk’s brittle territory.