Patrik had Dion and Alles help him prepare healing potions and a couple of other spells with the supplies he had left in his backpack. “Unfortunately, I don’t know enough about Neraka’s flora and minerals to choose suitable replacements for some of these spells,” Patrik muttered, “so we’ll have to be careful with how we use these.”

“That’s fine,” Vesta said. “Dion and Alles know how to cook up some of our swamp witch spells, if needed. They won’t work as well as yours, but they’ll do the trick.”

“Tell us about these creatures we’ll be looking for,” Avril said, while sharpening her sword with a diamond rock. There was a pile of them left for us to prepare our weapons, and we were all busy doing the same, along with restocking our belt satchels and backpacks. Ledda had been kind enough to have the Imen females prepare some dried breads and fruit, as well as water, for our non-vampire and non-Mara team members.

“The Manticores are thought to have a nest here, in the Akrep Gorge,” Vesta replied, pointing at the map. “It’s a cluster of tall red rocks in the middle of the Harvaris Desert. It’s a dangerous territory, and few of us venture there. The wild animals are mostly night hunters, and extremely hostile. To be honest, the Manticore nest is more of a rumor, but it’s worth a shot.”

“What are they like?” I asked, then stole a glance at Blaze, who was still refusing to look at me. I had a feeling he was still struggling with guilt after Rewa had mind-bent him into strangling me. I knew dragons were kind of hard-headed, so it would take some time for him to loosen up and understand that it really wasn’t his fault.

“The Manticores were always vicious warriors,” Vesta replied. “Their culture was tribal and violent, and the strongest and fiercest of their fighters were always honored with precious stones and other riches. Their tails have a needle-like extension, and it injects deadly venom with incredible speed. We don’t have an antivenom, so we’ll have to be careful not to cross them. If they sting us, we will die.”

“I wonder if vampire blood can heal that,” Harper muttered.

“Mara blood definitely can’t,” Caspian replied. “We tried, a long time ago.”

“How many of them do you think there are left?” I asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Vesta said with a shrug. “A nest could hold up to fifty of them in the old days, but I don’t know what it’s like for them these days. If they’re still out there, that is. They would be thriving in the desert, though. They like it hot and dry. It’s one of the reasons the daemons went after them first when they started conquering the surface territories. They didn’t want the competition—the Manticores eat raw flesh, too. They never got along with the daemons because of that. They’re also extremely territorial, but, then again, so are the Adlets.”

“Caspian said they’re two-spirited creatures,” Harper replied, then looked at me. “They’re like werewolves. They shift from humanoid to wolf.”

“No way!” I gasped. “Nerakian werewolves! Who would’ve thought?”

“They’re huge, though,” Vesta said, then nodded at Jack with a smirk. I followed her gaze and found Jack lying on his back, his belly up as he watched Scarlett sharpen her sword and knives. “As big as pit wolves, to be precise.”

“They have red fur, though,” Harper added.

“Bright red, yes. Long before the Imen understood the Adlets’ nature, back in more primitive days, they used to call them ‘fire spirits’,” Vesta explained. “They usually live and hunt in packs of ten and more, each covering up to ten miles’ worth of land. They were spotted in the Plains of Lagerith, here,” she said, pointing at the map again. “It’s covered in tall grass, perfect for the moon-bison to graze. The Adlets take cover in the neighboring forest patches and hunt during the day. They used to rule the nights, until the daemons came to the surface and pushed them into changing their hunting habits.”

“You know for a fact they’re still there?” Scarlett asked, sheathing her sword.

“Yes. I know of one pack, for sure. They mark their territory with the skulls of their fallen brothers. The daemons like to crush them, just to show everyone else that they’ve taken over, but this area here,” she replied, her index finger circling a particular spot on the map, “is still Adlet territory. Dion and Alles passed by a few nights ago, and the skulls were still there. Intact.”

“The daemons don’t like that region much,” Dion added, while holding a small leather bag for Patrik to fill with a mixture of crystal powders and herbs. “It rains a lot in those parts, and, since they like hunting invisibly, it doesn’t work for them. They just hijack the fringe cattle when their meat source runs low near Draconis. Infernis covers the southeastern plains, so the Adlets were left with Lagerith. For now, anyway. It’s only a matter of time before either the Exiled Maras or the daemons decide it’s time to wipe the red wolves out, too.”

“What about the Dhaxanians?” Harper asked. “I’m told they’re quite the opposite of daemons.”

“Yes, literally.” Alles chuckled, then got up and passed healing bags around to each of us, while Patrik and Dion moved to prepare the rest. “They’re ice people. Everything they touch is taken over by frost. They’re pale and skinny, barely a wisp, but boy, don’t let them touch you!”

“They were last spotted in the Athelathan Mountains, farther north from the Lagerith Plains,” Vesta added. “We know for sure there are some of them still living there because the mountain peaks are always covered in snow, even in the middle of summer. No daemon dares to go up there, anyway. They thrive in fire, but the Dhaxanians like it cold. The low temperatures will slow a daemon down. I’d bet you’ll find plenty of them frozen up there.”

“I hope so,” Avril muttered. “I’ve never rejoiced in the deaths of others, but, man, I’m okay with making an exception for daemons. May those mountains be loaded with their corpses. At least it’ll be proof that the Dhaxanians can do some serious damage.”

“Speaking of which,” I said, “why haven’t they tried to get together, between species, and fight the daemons?”

Vesta sighed, then rolled the maps into two tubes, which she then tied with leather strings. She kept one and handed the other to Patrik. “They tried, thousands of years ago. But when the Druid delegation crashed and the daemons got their claws on the swamp witch, it was game over. The Manticores went down first. The Adlets managed to retreat and survive in small packs, keeping to secluded patches, particularly where it rained a lot. The Dhaxanians didn’t stand a chance, either, but they were able to secure a couple of mountain peaks, and the daemons stopped trying to go after them. They couldn’t leave the mountains, either.”

“Yes, we’ll have to be careful when we reach the Athelathan Mountains,” Dion said. “Daemons will probably be stationed there. They’re always there, even after, what, seven thousand years?”

“More or less,” Alles replied with a nod. “They’re quite persistent in making sure the Dhaxanians don’t try to come down. Chances are they’ll have fires constantly burning, just to remind them of their fate.”

About an hour passed as we finished planning and stocked up on supplies and spells. Patrik wrote down the swamp witch spell incantations we needed for the pouches he gave us—fire starters, water detectors, and invisibility paste, the last made with local ingredients. We had to be prepared for everything on our end, even the worst-case scenario in which Blaze and I couldn’t use our fire abilities.

Dion and Alles then brought over the indigo horses, one for each of us. They were all strong, muscular males with long white manes and sparkling violet eyes that reminded me of the Daughters of Eritopia. My heart twisted itself up in a painful knot as I patted a stallion’s neck—I missed Vita, my parents… Hell, I missed Bijarki, Draven, Serena, the whole gang.

Blaze seemed to notice my sadness. He inched closer and briefly squeezed my shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Caia. We’ll get this done, and we’ll go back home.”

“Damn straight!” Heron grinned, and gave him a hard, albeit friendly, slap on the back. “I can’t wait to go back to Calliope. White City is gorgeous during the summer. All white and sparkling beneath the moonlight. You haven’t seen it, have you, Avril?”

Avril shook her head. “I haven’t had the chance, no.”

“Well, I’d be happy to take you there when we get out of this hellhole,” Heron replied, the shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Vesta then smacked him on the shoulder. “Ouch!”

“Show some respect!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, then scratched the back of his head. “Though, technically speaking, you’re not from around here, either.”

“I was definitely born here, so it’s my home,” Vesta replied.

“Fair enough,” Jax said, then smacked Heron on the shoulder again, prompting him to mutter a curse under his breath. “Be kinder to the locals, Brother.”

“Wait till we get back to Calliope,” Heron shot back. “I’ll kick your ass in the training hall until you beg for mercy.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Jax replied with a smirk.

“And I’d love to watch,” Hansa interjected with a dazzling smile, before she dragged Jax back by his hood, “but we have a long road ahead of us, so cover up and let’s go. The sun is coming out.”

Vesta chuckled lightly, then got on her horse, while the vampires and Maras covered up with hoods, masks, goggles, and gloves. The sun was coming out from behind the gorges in the east, casting its vibrant light across a watercolor-blue sky. It looked so beautiful and tranquil, the very opposite of what was going on beneath.

We all got on our horses and bid the Imen goodbye.

“We’ll travel to Ragnar Peak together,” Vesta said. “Then we’ll be off to Kerentrith via the Akrep Gorge, while Dion and Alles will take your friends to Lagerith, as planned.”

“Wait, Kerentrith?” I asked, frowning. “I thought we were going to Draconis, the prison city of daemons.”

“We are,” Vesta replied, putting on a sad smile. “Draconis is beneath Kerentrith, the abandoned citadel of the Imen. It’s still beautiful, with its white marble walls and towers, but it’s empty. The Imen were driven out eventually, when the daemons decided to become conquerors and disregard all other creatures in this world.”

I nudged my horse with my heels and followed the rest of my team as we shot through the woods to the north. The trees whizzed past us in shades of dark brown and green, and birds flew out above, startled by hooves thundering across the hard ground.

This was it. Our most dangerous endeavor yet, and the most important one. Our lives depended on its success. One way or another, we were going to get that swamp witch back. Neraka was not going to hold us hostage for much longer.