Undergoing mass editing so bear with me
This book is dedicated to people who are fucking SICK of slow burns
In a modern world full of magic, having a rare magic type is unusual. Flora Dewberry Whitehand is one of those rare wielders. She is capable...
Content warning, this chapter contains graphic depictions of war, gross creatures, and dead bodies.
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The following night, as I slept in my tent in Shudmos' war encampment, an eerie howl tore through the night. I bolted awake and sat up quickly. Before I could pull on the pants that I had tossed on the floor last night before crawling into bed in my shirt, the flap to my tent opened, and the god walked in. In his right hand was the handle of a sword I'd never seen before.
I opened my mouth to speak, but another howl sounded. Louder. Longer. Closer.
"It seems like we have another problem," Shudmos said as I opened my weapons chest. "Our enemies seem to have brought more from our home world than I originally thought. Those weapons won't work against what's coming." I stopped midway through tightening my sword belt around my waist and looked up at him. Fear blazed in his white eyes. "If I'm right, and I am, those were the howls of a pack of Holei. Don't let the name fool you because they are creatures of death."
The fear in my chest grew colder as my nerves made my stomach swirl.
"So how do we kill them?" I managed around the lump forming in my throat.
"With a blade made of Lestril. It's a common metal on my home world. Lucky for us I managed to find a small mine of it here," he explained. Shudmos reached behind his back and pulled out a short sword made of the same metal. It faintly glowed blue and silver.
He handed me the short sword. It felt weird in my hand but the balance was perfect, almost as if the blade had been made specifically for me.
"Did you make this for me?" I glanced up at the god as I instinctively sheathed the sword.
"We did," he answered with both voices. Lightning shot through my whole body at the admission from both of them.
Another round of howls pierced the night. They sounded like they had circled the camp walls, and they wouldn't hold long since they were made of sheet metal.
As we left my tent another thought struck me. "We aren't the only ones armed with weapons capable of killing these creatures right?" Shudmos slowed his hurried stride to match mine. I repeated the question as silence hung between us.
"I said it was a small mine," he sighed. "I meant it," he continued, "only twelve other soldiers in this encampment wielding weapons capable of killing Holei." A grim expression was etched into his face.
My throat tightened.
We were in for the fight of our lives and we hadn't even officially declared war on the Kroqalin Kingdom.
Shudmos and I had almost reached the walls of the encampment, we were less than five meters away when the first creature broke through. To say it was horrifying was saying the least. It stood as tall as a horse, maybe even taller, had fangs in its mouth that hung halfway open as if it couldn't compensate them, blood-red skin on its thickly muscled body that had patches of fur and blisters and walked on four paws ending in razor-sharp claws.
