[High Lord Leialt Alniyh POV]

“What false god blessed these worthless beasts with this strength? They shouldn’t have been able to do anything to Alba! I raised her three previous generations until she hatched and she was very nearly the perfect example to a thunderbird! How dare they cut the bloodline short! I… Just… FUCK!”

The unbearable rage that surged within the High Lord Leialt Alniyh dyed his vision scarlet. He’d been so close to creating a truly obedient thunderbird, and that dream was cut short the moment his Binding on Alba snapped. She’d been killed by these inferior beasts, wholly unworthy of experimentation or preservation! None of the other of the High Speaker families understood why the oldest, most powerful of the natural world’s beasts had been exterminated instead of Bound. They’d heard of the Alniyh, his great grandfather. “He’d had soulbound companions far more powerful than any Soulspeaker alive! He was the shining example of what the Alniyh should have been!” Well, Leialt had met the proud old goat, and most of his “companions” had abandoned him by his old age! He was left to rot in an empty estate, only the few most unimportant and weakest of his “companions” still willing to be near him.

No, Leialt Alniyh was smarter, better, and stronger than every Soulspeaker who had come before. He had pioneered the creation of the vastly superior Bound, and already it had made waves. The Red Abbey had instituted his teachings into their curriculum, and the military was seeing greater results in using their Bound as scouts and shock troops. It was only a matter of time before the “soulbound companion” was nothing but a myth, a relic of times long past. And High Lord Leialt Alniyh, the greatest Soulspeaker in history, would be the name that was remembered as the great founder of the Bound. The cultivated creatures that could fill their ranks would be unsurpassable, and the loss of the life of the unimportant drones continuously pumped out by the superior breeding stock could easily replace the sacrifice of superior, human life!

Breeding stock…

“Damn them! Those worthless lizards dared to cut that line short! That was the work of nearly two decades, gone is a mere moment! It’s your fault you worthless, braindead invertebrate!” He whirled once again on that moron of the Nahr.

“And my work of two decades has slaughtered at least one hundred of them and led the rest to flee mindlessly. I wonder which of the two is of greater worth.”

“You cannot begin to understand the long-reaching effects of my planning, and instead you tout your own weakness! It would be amusing, were you not so stupid that your ignorance did not send me into conniptions! Alba was the result of generations of training and deliberate breeding in order to recreate an extinguished bloodline, but superior to the original article, and all you can think of, instead of progress for the whole of the Veratocracy, is venting your anger over a mere swarm of keelish!”

“And that’s what you’re doing right now you swollen headed jackass! The only difference is that I’ve done something and you haven’t!”

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Before High Lord Leialt Alniyh could resume his takedown of the fool that stood so confidently before him, Lierthan spoke up.

“I do recognize that there was no insignificant sacrifice on your side for this, High Lord. I cannot understand what it has cost you, but I appreciate it. Please, continue supporting us as best as you can.” Lierthan nodded respectfully to his superior before turning to the fool Tariel. “Continue sending windwords for our estimated time of contact. I want to be sure that the sentinels aren’t wholly destroyed.”

With a snarl, the High Lord resumed commanding Skyr in more reserved guerrilla tactics.

[Ashlani POV]

There was no time for us to try to collect ourselves, and Arwa and her pups stepped together, their hackles raised. Before long, Percral stepped closer to the wolfstags. Not all of the wolfstags, though. The Wave Wolfstags stepped back, obviously under Arwa’s command, though she was obviously reluctant to be on the front lines herself.

“What is it?” I asked, but before any response could come my way, a curtain of lightning leapt out of the canopy of a nearby tree. It surged towards the swarm, and with a howl of effort, Arwa directed much of the lightning towards herself and her pups. The purple bolts coursed through her body, arcing between her antlers as she whined and attempted to gain control over the foreign magic. Beside her, the eight pups attempted to lend her their meager strengths, but they were wholly occupied by the errant arcs of electricity that threatened them.

With a roar of his own, Percral lunged forward and created a flickering, radiant armor of lightning that covered his body before charging forward. His steps carried him on to the source of the lightning, the leaf-covered top of a nearby, unassuming tree. As he approached, though, a strange creature jumped out of its fort and sprinted into the surrounding forest, leaving a trail of crackling footsteps behind itself.

I’d heard what I’d always assumed to be tall tales in my previous life as a human, stories about living, moving trees, storm calling massive thunderbirds, landshaking behemoths, and fire breathing salamanders. I’d assumed most were exaggerations of outliers of species, but I’d never thought I’d see a toskyr, an inherently magical beast that resembled an over two foot-long squirrel. These silver creatures were supposedly the mythical guardians of the sacred cenotes. Those underground lakes were meant to house the spawning grounds of the locath, but I’d never seen a locath or toskyr in one.

The exhaustion had allowed my mind to wander. I focused and called out to my swarm, “Go! We move, we survive, we stop, we die!” Without another word and no complaint, we turned and continued sprinting east, hopeful to find some possibility of escape. Nievtala’s words had seemed to communicate at least a possibility for survival, and I clung to that idea as I led my swarm onward.

It hadn’t been even a quarter of an hour before the toskyr’s lightning smashed into one of our flanks, crippling or killing half a dozen keelish. Arwa ran to chase the attacking beast, but even before she got halfway there, it scampered off into the surrounding forest.

“Nievtala guide us and give us the strength necessary to resist.” I prayed aloud as we continued running.

The squirrel attacked five more times, every time slaying or crippling at least five more of the swarm, and when Foire suddenly perked up, the swarm was down to two hundred and ninety eight keelish. I glanced at him, fear souring my empty stomach. “What is it?” I whispered, the terror of worse news choking my dry throat.

“There’s a massive river in front of us. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but I sense more humans moving around and preparing.”