Chapter 132. Recognized by the Killer

Eryndor’s POV

I was barreling toward the city’s southern wall when the ground beneath me began to shudder. At first it was a distant tremor, but then the earth rose and fell in great swells on the far side of the ramparts. My heart hammered as I wondered what terrible battle could be wreaking such havoc out there.

Every instinct in me screamed to hurry: I could sense Corvin’s aura, bright and fierce; Auraya’s, sharp and determined; even Master’s, steady and commanding, all flaring like warning beacons in my mind. With each pulse, I pushed myself faster, desperate to reach them and lend whatever aid I could. Then, rounding the corner of a shattered watchtower, I spotted the High Seer—and in his arms lay the old priest, drained of life, his robes stained dark with blood.

I’d never been fond of that priest. He’d doubted my worth as a werewolf hunter, refused to believe I could ever be more than a green apprentice. Yet standing there, seeing him pale and cold, I