Taren’s the first to react. He darts forward and snatches Denet from the snow and stamina burns towards the village. I hesitate, only for a moment. The snowhorns plow through ice and snow, trampling anything in their path. Two of them break through an outer fence.

  [Chilling Presence] bursts from me. I want to wall off the beasts from the village, but they must already be terrified from something greater, because my [Skill] does little except make a bubble around me. I don’t wait long enough to see if it alters their direction.

  I stamina burn after Taren. I can see the villagers in Ashgrove milling around, talking amongst one another as the sun sinks below the rim of the west forest.

  Orlen and Honep shout from their position at the other end of the stampede.

  Taren reaches Ashgrove first, sounding the alarm.

  People scatter. Some run for their homes, others for the edges of the village proper. Parents race after their children, frantic, crying out their names. Everyone can see the danger now, but cannot stop it.

  I’m ahead of the herd now, but not by much. My speed, even in stamina burn, only competes with the beasts.

  I slide to a stop at the edge of the main thoroughfare into the village square. Breathe deep.

  I target the frontmost snowhorn with [Pulse Sever]. Only one point, one leg. At that speed, even a minor lapse should topple it.

  It does. And as soon as the first snowhorn crumples, I reach for a new target, searching for a vitality point, then squeezing with [Pulse Sever]. It trips at my command, sliding into the path of other snowhorns.

  I work quickly—severing vitality points for one second at a time, dropping a dozen of the beasts in succession. But each target takes time and concentration. And I don’t have enough mana for all of them.

  Though the fallen bodies of their herd mates prove disconcerting to the rest and drive them in many directions, more than I can count still plow straight towards the square.

  I don’t dodge the snowhorns, though I run for the side of one home, where I can see a small collection of people huddled. I want to use [Chilling Presence] on the snowhorns, scatter them from this area, but not with everyone so close. Not when people of lower levels might feel the effects of my awful power. I’m too much of a coward.

  Before I can reach the group, one of the snowhorns crashes into me, launching me off my feet. I crash against one wall of the home, cracking ribs and shattering my arm. [Leech Grip] activates by instinct alone, draining vitality from the moss in my cloak pocket.

  One farmer, Ferlon, curses, then bravely ventures around the edge of the home to reach me. “You alright, Sevorn?”

  He reaches to pick me up, but I take his hand instead and he lifts me to my feet. We both circle to the side of the home.

  “You must have bones of steel, boy,” Ferlon comments.

  I nod, unable to respond in any other way. I’m too focused on the stampede. There must be a hundred of the beasts, terrified enough to rush through a human settlement. I cannot fathom what has brought this upon them. My mana replenishes bit by bit with my [Minor Ring of Mana].

  I activate [Detect Decay] to see what I can find. Nothing originates from the herd. At least nothing my current [Skill] level can sort out. Either the snowhorns move too quickly for me to find rot, or they carry none at all. I don’t remember sensing anything odd about them.

  I release [Detect Decay] so I can focus on mana regeneration.

  Then someone cries out—someone I recognize—Raimi.

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  I cannot see her, but she’s close.

  I leap from behind the home to get a better view. Ferlon tries to call me back, but I ignore him again.

  I hear Raimi cry out again. Somewhere near the great oak in the village square…yes, there, at the well in the middle of the village. Raimi’s brown hair whips around in the rushing air as she crouches behind the well. But it’s a small place to hide.

  I can see Taren now as well. He’s with Marlene and Denet and others by my shed. He stands at the ready, eyes locked on Raimi’s position, calculating. It’s a risky run. One that he looks to be building the courage to take.

  I won’t give him a chance to take it.

  I run into the herd. [Pulse Sever] takes down a snowhorn, laying it low. I dash between stomping hooves and slide next to the overturned beast.

  Raimi doesn’t see me yet, but Taren does. He shouts something that’s lost amongst the noise, but I read his face well enough. He wanted to risk himself, not me. He must assume that being older lets him make choices for me.

  But my [Skills] are made for this.

  I bring down another snowhorn and dash forward to my new safe spot. I bring myself low, resting my head on the fallen beast.

  One of the snowhorns leaps over its herd mate and almost lands on me, making me reconsider my strategy.

  I glance around at my surroundings. I’m far enough away from the villagers and Raimi. I can risk it.

  With [Chilling Presence] active, the stampede breaks against the bubble of fear around me like a river breaking against a large stone. I can see the extent of my [Skill] now, exactly how far it reaches.

  I stand, holding [Chilling Presence] within me, then pour mana into it, driving back the herd, enlarging my range of influence.

  I release the [Skill] and stamina burn towards Raimi, just beyond my circle of fear. I [Pulse Sever] two snowhorn ahead of me, close to the well, then leap between the new onslaught of the stampede before diving forward, crashing down against the rough stone well where Raimi hides. My mana is empty.

  [Pulse Sever] has reached Level 3.

  Raimi sobs. As soon as I fall beside her, she grabs onto my shirt and grips it tightly. Nox clicks his concern. He worries about her as well.

  Drops of mana fill me as the seconds drag on. One snowhorn after another leaps over the fallen ones. Many of those I had toppled begin to rise and join their herd mates; a few do not. The closest one has been trampled.

  When any of them comes close to the well, I [Pulse Sever] a leg to bring them down. Nox helps fuel my mana when my ring is not enough, though his contributions are small. With time, five fallen snowhorns form an unnatural wall that keeps the others away.

  And though it feels like hours of waiting, eventually the herd disappears into the far ends of the village and beyond.

  Raimi still clings to me, her eyes shut tight. I don’t move, though the position’s uncomfortable.

  Taren reaches us a moment later with Denet at his heels.

  “Trying to prove yourself braver than me, I see,” Taren tries for a smile.

  I shake my head. “I wanted to prove I can do someone good with my [Skills].”

  Denet frowns. “Why would you do that? Taren’s the hunter, you’re the healer.” He glances down at Raimi. “Healers don’t fight and run into danger.”

  Taren nods. “You’re [Skills] don’t define you—it’s what you do with them that matters, Sevorn.”

  I try to believe it, but it isn’t enough yet. I need more than healing, more than a single rescue.

  “Don’t give me that look,” he continues. “It’s not a matter of deciding if what you have is good or evil. That’s Edrine talking.” He grips his bow tighter. “And that scrapping fool’s an example of [Skills] gone wrong. He’s got all the holy powers you could want, but he only uses them for himself.”

  Raimi stops clinging to me, and her head pops up. Though her eyes are red and cheeks stained with wet tears, there’s defiance there too. “Don’t say things like that, Taren. Father Edrine helps us. He’s kind and protects the village from evil.”

  “Oh?” Taren grips his bow tightly. “Like protecting us from this?” He gestures around at the torn up homes and scattered families. “Where’s our scrapping hero of a cleric now, huh?”

  “Taren…” I say.

  But Raimi can hold her own despite the age gap. She tries to stand and I help her. “Father Edrine says that sometimes trials are needed to bring people back to the faith—and trials to test those of the faith, to remind us of who we follow.”

  She might go on, but at this moment there’s a chorus of cries from across the village.

  Taren’s own anger evaporates in an instant and he whips around to see the commotion.

  But he doesn’t need to look far to know what trouble has just arrived.

  In response to the chorus of frightened villagers comes an echo of howls.

  Twilight Howler - Level 3

  Three packs of howlers, maybe more even, with how many seem to materialize from the snow at the edge of the village. Now we know what drove the snowhorn herd with such terror.

  Now our village becomes the new prey.