The drumbeat echoed through the empty streets, steady as a heartbeat. Ayla pressed herself against the cracked stone of the bell tower, her breath caught in her throat. The sound wasn't loud, but it filled the night, wrapping the city in its rhythm.
The robed figures drew closer. They moved in perfect sync, heads bowed, feet silent on the rubble-strewn ground. The moonlight caught the edges of their cloaks, showing tattered hems and dark stains that might have been old blood.
Mara lowered her rifle slightly, watching them with narrowed eyes.
"They don't look like scavengers," she muttered.
"No," the stranger said, his voice low. "They're something worse."
Kade shifted beside Ayla, blade ready, eyes fixed on the street below.
"What are they?"
The stranger didn't answer. His gaze stayed locked on the figures. His body was still, but every muscle was tight, ready.
The drumbeat quickened. The figures stopped in the street before the church. As one, they lifted their heads.
Their faces were hidden by masks, smooth and featureless except for thin slits where their eyes should be. No light shone behind those slits.
One of them stepped forward, raising a staff wrapped in strips of dark cloth. He lifted it high, and the drumbeat stopped.
The silence that followed was worse.
Ayla's heart pounded in her ears.
Then the figure spoke.
"Bring out the one marked by the blood of the beast."
His voice was wrong. Too flat, too hollow, like the echo of something long dead.
No one moved.
"Bring him out," the voice said again. "Or we will take him."
The stranger's jaw clenched. He looked at Mara, at Ayla, at Kade.
"I'll go," he said quietly.
"No," Ayla said at once.
"They want me," the stranger said. "If I stay, they'll come in. You'll die for nothing."
Mara shook her head, checking her rifle again.
"We don't hand people over to fanatics."
The figure at the head of the group slammed the staff to the ground. The sound echoed like thunder.
"Last chance."
The other robed figures raised their hands. From beneath their cloaks came the glint of blades.
Jace crouched near the stairwell, shaking his head.
"There's too many," he said. "We can't fight them."
Ayla grabbed the stranger's arm.
"There has to be another way."
The stranger opened his mouth to speak, but the figure outside lifted his staff again.
A new sound joined the night.
The beast's roar, close now, closer than it had been.
The robed figures froze. The one with the staff turned his masked face toward the sound, head tilted as if listening.
The beast roared again, nearer, furious.
The stranger looked at Ayla, at Mara.
"This is our chance. While they're distracted."
The robed figures shifted, uneasy now. Some lowered their blades, looking toward the dark where the beast's cry had come from.
Mara motioned toward the stairs.
"Move. Now."
They slipped from the bell tower, down the narrow stairs, feet silent on the cracked stone. Outside the church, the robed figures stood tense, caught between their prey and the greater predator that hunted the night.
Ayla's heart raced as they crept through the shadows of the ruined church, slipping toward the rear. The beast roared again, and she felt the ground tremble beneath her feet.
The stranger led the way, bleeding still but swift, guiding them through the rubble. Kade stayed close behind, blade ready, eyes scanning every shadow.
Jace pointed to a gap in the church's rear wall, just wide enough for them to slip through.
"There," he whispered.
They moved faster now, hope driving them, the noise of the beast covering their escape.
But as they neared the gap, the staff-bearer's voice rang out again.
"They run. Take them."
The robed figures turned as one, breaking from their stillness, blades drawn, moving with terrible speed.
And from the dark behind them came the crash of the beast as it charged toward the church, drawn by the sound, by the scent, by the promise of blood.
Ayla felt the rush of air as the first of the robed figures lunged. She ducked aside, shoving Kade through the gap. Mara fired once, dropping one of the attackers. The stranger swung his blade, cutting down another.
The beast smashed through the front of the church, stone and wood splintering before it.
And the night became a storm of claws, steel, and fury.