My feet slid, my skirts tangled between my legs, my long hair blew in my eyes, and yet, I was always able to keep the sword—Greagoir’s sword made from this strange new silver metal—in battle position. I was ready to strike. Every muscle in my body sang, my blood ran hot, and the magic in my soul began to spill out.

I began to sing.

Snow and frost, capture Greagoir, hold him fast, make him freeze, make his hands tremble, make him set the child free—

And with my song came courage, enough for all of us. We sorely needed it.

We had to win this battle, one way or another. If I did not take Greagoir’s head, then he would take mine. Either way, I would win. Isleen would be set free and Kellen would take care of my boys. He had already vowed it when we were riding through the forest to get here.

He was a man of his word.

We all crested the last ridge at the same moment, then we paused to get our bearings. Down below us, in the hollow, surrounded by a grove of oak trees, there stood Greagoir, looking as frightening as Caorthannach herself—the mother of all demons. One arrow was still plunged through his chest, another through his left thigh, and one more through his right eye. His right hand had been ripped down the center and now hung in two ragged pieces. Two of the arrows had broken off and looked like wooden knives, but the arrow that pierced his eye was intact and fierce. Yet, not one drop of blood fell from any of his wounds.

His chest was ripped open, my claw marks on his flesh, a gaping wound where his heart should have been.

He was a walking nightmare.

And he clutched Isleen around the throat with his left hand. She trembled, her feet barely touching the ground, her hands grasping at air.

Isleen.

Kellen raised his bow and aimed it at the Leanan Sidhe beast.

“Shoot me again and your precious daughter dies, hunter,” Greagoir said. “Or better yet, she joins me for all of eternity, a companion in my darkness.”

He leaned nearer, jaws opening, teeth poised to bite her shoulder.

I did not hesitate. I raced down the hill toward him, singing one last song to the snow and the frost, commanding them to obey me. My attention remained fixed upon Greagoir’s teeth.

I must stop his bite. Nothing else mattered.

“Drop her, you foul creature, or your death will linger for thousands of years,” I told him as I continued to bridge the gap between us. “I’ll chain you to rocks in the Muir Éireann and you’ll drown three times every day as the tides come in, three slow deaths every day. For all of eternity.”

He laughed. “Death doesn’t frighten me. But disobeying Faelan? Now, that is something to be terrified of.”

“Then release her,” I said. “Faelan wants me. Here I am.”

“Let her go,” Kellen growled, a few steps behind me. My sons had turned back into wolves, and they both growled and howled as they approached—though there was something different about their howls, something plaintive and worrisome. I couldn’t take my gaze off Greagoir, but I sensed movement as if an army was slowly, stealthily creeping toward us. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I braced myself to fight whatever might be heading our way.

Friend or foe, I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

Only one enemy mattered.

The fiend right before me.

“Let her go or I’ll make sure Faelan knows about your great failure,” I said, inching closer to him.

Greagoir flinched, just a bit, and his head lifted away from Isleen so he could speak.

“What failure?” he asked.

“This one.”

Before those words even left my mouth, I kicked Isleen out of his grasp. His thick claws left long deep scratches on her throat and her blood began to pour out onto the snow. It was a risk I had to take and I hoped that Kellen would be able to pull her to safety and stop her bleeding, because I had other things to do.

I swung my blade, the sword that had belonged to my enemy but now listened only to me. My song rang out as my blade whistled through the air in a bright silver arc. Snow and ice and frost grew around Greagoir until he was encased in a hard, icy shell.

He screamed and fought the ice, but my song kept it in place.

My blade continued to swing, a song of death that came to a crescendo when it sliced through his neck. His expression froze, wide-eyed, mouth open in a scream that would never end, and his head stayed where it was for one impossible moment. Then it flew off his body and through the night air.

At that same moment, an army of wolves howled around us, their unearthly cries piercing my soul. The wild dogs raced out of the trees, first fighting over Greagoir’s head until it was completely devoured, then they ripped Kellen’s cloak to shreds and ate Greagoir’s heart.

Finally, they charged, all at once, leaping at his frozen body until the ice casing shattered. They snarled and growled, taking large bites, chewing and fretting and swallowing. Bones cracked, leathery flesh shredded, muscles tore and snapped. It all happened within a matter of moments. Before any of us could step out of the way, Greagoir vanished, bit by gruesome bit, until finally, the army of wolves loped off into the shadowed woods, their bellies full.

The leader paused and looked back at my sons.

He howled, long and soulful, and my boys returned the cry. But thankfully they stayed with me.

When all the wild wolves had fled, there was nothing left of Greagoir. Nothing but the arrows that Kellen had shot at him.

The wolves had denied their natural instinct to attack the wounded Isleen, whose blood now stained the snow. I said a long, heartfelt blessing upon the pack and its leader.

Then I turned toward the child.

She wasn’t moving.