David stood in the doorway, the sword scraping the wooden floor, watching his dad walk toward the palisade and then to the west gate like a ghost from his dreams, one he’d rather forget. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

  He leaned the sword against the wall, just inside the doorway, and ran home to get supplies. He managed to bring over a fur blanket, a few buckets of water and a big piece of dry flatbread before the sky went completely dark. Then he locked himself inside the shed with his mom and the lone candle.

  He laid out the fur in the corner, as far from the shuttered windows and the door as possible. Then he slid his hands under Mom's armpits and dragged her onto it. She felt warm, but so fragile. She groaned a little. At least she was still breathing.

  The quiet of the shed was nearly suffocating. He moved the sword closer, sat down next to her, and hugged his knees to his chest. Though the swirling dusts his mom used were long gone, they lived on in his memory. An echo of what magic was capable of. He didn’t quite understand why she did all that or what she wanted to achieve, and her failure was terrifying… And yet, it only made him hungrier to learn more.

  “You’re amazing, Mom,” he whispered. “I wish I could help you.”

  He pulled out the brass vial and held it up to the candlelight. The material inside, once a sparkling liquid, now looked like crimson flames battling permafrost. Any campfire would burn out sooner or later. The thickest ice would melt eventually, when heated up so thoroughly. But within the contents of the vial defied all logic. Neither side seemed to be winning,

  What could have justified putting herself at so much risk? He wanted to understand it, wanted to learn. If mom woke--David shook his head. When mom woke up, he would get her to teach him. Somehow.

  He slipped the vial back into his pocket, hiding the improbable substance, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was too hot. With this at least, he knew how she felt and how to help her. He wet a cloth and wiped the dust off her face, avoiding the bruises. The candle flickered, and shadows danced across the floor. It was almost out.

  A distant scraping of something sharp against wood broke the stillness. Then the silence returned. He clenched his hand around the sword hilt as hard as he could and inched toward the door.

  He looked out through a tiny gap between planks. Two torches stood at the edge of the street. Some green shapes with shining red eyes skirted around the light. Two small goblins and a hobgoblin as big as a man approached his house. The hobgoblin pried at the shutters with its long fingers; then it turned around and sniffed loudly in the direction of the shed. All three goblins started toward the shed. David held his breath.

  Suddenly, a massive shadow fell on the goblins, shaking the ground. The hobgoblin was cut in two, its torso bounding into the house, while its legs toppled one of the torches, setting a stack of wood on fire. And then it was over. The three goblins were reduced to clumps of blood and gore on the grass, and a dark silhouette as tall as the house, with six shining red eyes, was standing on the path, staring at him through the gap in the planks.

  David felt like a hare staring down a wolf. He wanted to scurry away, to hide, but he couldn’t will his legs to move. Even if he managed, there was nowhere to go.

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  The fire climbed up the pile of wood, illuminating the creature’s black insect-like carapace. Someone shouted in the distance, but the monster didn’t even flinch. It tilted its elongated head slightly and continued to stare at David.

  A spear flew through the air, clanked off the monster’s side, and spun to the ground. The creature flared its mandibles and spun his head toward a group of approaching villagers carrying torches.

  David's arms went limp. His ears rang. His sword clattered to the ground. Still, he stared through the crack in the planks.

  Brenn tightened his grip on his spear. He was tired and out of shape. At his age, he should have been asleep by the fire. Instead, here he was, the ol’ faithful artifact shield in his hand, running to confront some massive monster.

  It was almost as tall as the palisade, with four upper limbs, two ending with scythes the size of a man, the other two with jagged claws. His other spear hadn’t even scratched its black exoskeleton and something weird was moving across its back. What was something like that even doing this far away from the first ruins?

  Brenn turned to look at the guards running behind him, fifteen of them, with not a single enchanted weapon. “Stam, get Darryl! Run!” The boy sprinted into the darkness.

  The monster shifted its stance, staring at them with its glistening red eyes, coiling and scraping the ground with its massive scythe-like claws.

  “Brace!” Brenn barked. His men gathered around him, forming a shield wall. The creature charged, carving the earth with its spider-like legs. The guards braced their spears on the ground, and creature slammed into the shield wall.

  Veris couldn't handle the push. He fell back, hit the ground, and scrambled back into formation. The others stabbed their spears at the monster, but it jumped back just out of range.

  Brenn cursed under his breath. Intelligent monsters were the worst.

  The creature leaned forward. A dozen thin tentacles with sharp blades shot from its back. Then guards raised the shield and the blades pelted them but bounced off. Then it slashed a scythe at Brenn. He angled the shield to glance the blow, but it was still nearly torn from his hand.

  Fiere shouted, “Commander!” and leapt to Brenn’s side. The monster pierced her shield and her head with its claw, pulled the claw back and whipped it sideways, cutting Arto’s head clean off. The other scythe fell down, splitting Del in two. Case stumbled back and lowered his shield. The creature stabbed its claw down right through Case’s chestplate. Blood bubbled from the man’s mouth.

  Brenn surged forward and slammed his shield into the massive scythe, preventing it from reaching Dior., and hustled back into position. A wave of torches were headed toward them. Some guards had left the main gate. They had to turn the fight around or the monster would continue to butcher his men.

  Brenn stepped forward again from the remains of their shield wall, lunged, and thrust his spear deep into the creature’s flank. Black ichor sprayed Brenn’s face. The creature spun around and launched its tentacle blades at him. He caught a three of them on his shield, swatted away another with his spear, but two more whistled past him, uncontested. There was a sickening, wet squelch and Brenn watched his right arm, still clutching the spear, splash into the bloody mud.

  For a moment, it didn’t register. Then the pain came, white-hot and blinding. He screamed.

  At last, a volley of arrows rained down on the monster, some puncturing its carapace. It hissed and coiled away, then leapt up onto the palisade. It creaked and wobbled under the monster's weight. The guards launched another volley of arrows at it, but it swatted the accurate ones away with its tentacles. Then it jumped down on the other side of the palisade and ran off, leaving behind faint guttural sounds.

  Brenn clutched his bleeding stump. Someone ran up to him, started to bandage the wound. He clenched his teeth and looked around at the corpses lying in the mud. Grainwick lost six more lives and the Long Night was far from over.

  Dragged down by his shield, he rose and despite the lack of breath, he called out: ?Guards, on me!” The guards and archers followed him toward the main gate.