Under the cold chill of evening, the dim sky revealed five figures before Blū—two Guards in basic armor, each carrying a spear, and above them, unnatural amalgamations: men with the faces of owls, feathers coating their arms and backs. Their heads twitched as they flapped forward, eyes black and empty of will.

  “Don’t make this difficult, Joe!” one of the guards shouted. “Come back so we can all get home. We’re tired.”

  Joe shivered behind Blū, Oy, and Sil, frozen with fear. Blū wasn’t surprised—he could feel the malice radiating from the group as they advanced. Even in the dim light, he noticed blotchy marks on the guards’ necks. Still, that wasn’t as disturbing as the birdlike creatures. There were plenty of explanations for what they might be, but considering what he’d learned in the past few days, Blū suspected something much darker. He could only hope they hadn’t reached Furgen’s family.

  “There’s a festival going on,” Oy called out. “Maybe we can all wait until morning. No need for a confrontation tonight.”

  “We have our orders,” one of the guards replied as they continued their approach.

  “Any other brilliant ideas?” Sil asked.

  “That was all I had,” Oy admitted with a nervous chuckle.

  “Protect the guard,” Blū said.

  Oy nodded. “Will do.”

  The Owlmen shrieked a demonic squawk, flapping their wings in a single powerful burst that launched a flurry of knife-like feathers. Oy leapt back, dragging Joe with him. Blū and Sil charged forward, dodging the razor feathers as they stabbed into the ground behind them.

  The guards raised their spears, and—regrettably—a flicker of excitement surged through Blū. It had been a while since he’d felt real danger. Unfortunately, these two men weren’t enough to satisfy the itch. He dashed forward faster than the guard could react, seized the spear mid-strike, spun the weapon, and slammed it against the guard’s head. The man dropped like a straw dummy. Blū glanced to the side where Sil had already brought the other guard down. They looked up together, ready for the bird-creatures.

  Two Owlmen swooped down, landing in ready stances. The third dove toward Oy and Joe, prompting Sil to break off in pursuit, leaving Blū outnumbered two to one. He tossed aside the spear an unfamiliar weapon and assumed a stance of his own.

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  “You don’t hear me… do you?” he asked.

  The Owlmen cocked their heads, then lunged.

  Blū condensed mana into his fists and engaged, slipping into close combat. Three sets of arms clashed in a frenzied blur, each movement deflecting or redirecting attacks at speeds that would overwhelm any average fighter. Until now, Blū had assumed they lacked mana control. But no—their bodies were blanketed in activated energy. Their limbs weren’t just strong—they were reinforced. Worse, every other strike from their wings or arms cut into him, feathered edges tearing at his skin.

  He leaned back, caught one arm mid-swing, and with a sharp tug, yanked the creature forward, then launched it away with a mana-infused punch. Stepping back further, he grabbed one of the unconscious guards by the shirt and hurled the body into the remaining Owlman.

  Blū briefly thought he could take a breath.

  But within seconds, the Owlman he had punched away came swooping back across the road. Blū whipped up an arm, blocking a few sharp feathers with a mana shield. Before he could lower it, the creature had already grabbed the limb with talon-like hands. It squeezed—hard enough to crush bone.

  Thankfully, mana held Blū together under the pressure.

  Still clinging to him, the Owlman didn’t expect Blū’s next move. Blū grabbed its shoulder, lifted the beast overhead, and slammed it into the ground with a force only aura could grant.

  The road cracked slightly, chunks of rock breaking free as the impact echoed down the cool night streets in an eerie rhythm.

  A sharp pain struck Blū’s back—then again, and again. He winced and spun, spotting the second Owlman above, its wings slicing the air as it fired razor feathers with swift strokes. Blū rolled to the side, dodging the next volley while grabbing the Owlman on the ground by the head. With his target in sight and form steady, he hurled the grounded Owlman into the one above, knocking it out of the air.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Sil’s legs skipped across the night road as she sprinted toward Oy and Joe. The chill in the air brushed past her, only breaking when she turned sharply and skidded to a halt. Behind her, the Owlman soared, wings spread wide in preparation. She took some small solace in knowing she moved faster than it. Now she had to find out if she could hit harder.

  With a sudden shift, the creature dived low, flying just inches above the road, its wings outstretched like blades. Sil leapt, narrowly avoiding the pass—and Oy did the same. Joe, however, lacked such instincts and likely would’ve lost his feet if not for the strand of parchment Sil had wrapped around the Owlman’s leg. She pulled, and the Heavenly Parchment snapped the creature into a tight arc, flinging it sideways before it crashed through the wall of a nearby house.

  She winced at the damage—regretful, but less so than the unease twisting in her stomach at the sight of something so unnatural.

  Oy stood beside her as they waited for the dust to settle. From the rubble, the Owlman rose again. It screeched—a horrid sound, something between agony and fury.

  It lifted a clawed hand.

  From it, a third wing unfurled, feather by feather, until it sharpened into a blade four or five feet long.