By now, the rest of the wolf pack had encircled them. But at the sight of their fallen leader, they merely snarled and kept a safe distance away.

Henna pressed no further. She planted the shield on the ground and leaned on its edge. Blood was sheeting down her leg. She swayed precariously, and Gabriela helped her to a sitting position with her uninjured arm.

Henna tore a strip from her tunic and began tying a bandage over her leg. “Well…that is one down.”

“You were able to hit it, Grandma,” said Gabriela wondrously.

“Heh…I’m glad you noticed, dear.”

While Reya stood guard, Gabriela moved to Cadoc and held both hands over his ruined shoulder. A sphere of mint-green light formed around each of her hands, and a stream of twinkling, emerald sparks washed over the wound. The flow of blood slowed to a crawl. Cadoc’s lacerated skin began to ripple slowly like the disturbed surface of a pond smoothing back into a whole.

All the while, the surrounding wolves did nothing but watch.

“This is nothing I’ve ever seen,” said Cadoc through gritted teeth. “The Berserkers we fought before had no such abilities. Even now —” he winced in pain “— when I made contact, my sword passes through them like water.”

“Then how was Grandma able grab it?” demanded Connor.

“She could have caught it by surprise,” mused Gabriela. Her eyes were distant.

“How quickly can you heal me?” said Cadoc.

“Not fast enough for you to fight at full strength. I can stop the bleeding, for the most part. But that’s all.”

“Perhaps I got in a lucky shot,” said Henna faintly. She was looking beyond the horde of wolves, far across the field and to the inscrutable canopy of the Woodlands.

The hulking shadow in the trees was moving.

Connor tensed. “Would you be so kind as to be lucky again?”

The first Berserker stepped into the open. Even from this distance, it looked even larger than its defeated companion. By some trick of the light or unknown sorcery, the fur only seemed to darken under the stripes of moonlight. A kind of inky darkness was seeping off its body, rising from its shoulders in a waterfall of smoke. The crimson eyes raked over them once again, and Tryle felt his heart tremble.

“We couldn’t touch it when it was close by…” said Gabriela absently to herself. “Must be some kind of passive ability making it invulnerable to physical damage. And it seemed to shift into an incorporeal state before teleporting. But Grandma managed to touch it when it was in my shield…when we were fully in the light…”

The first Berserker was leisurely bounding towards them. No rush, Tryle knew. The two most dangerous prey were incapacitated. Time to savor the moment.

The crowd of wolves preemptively parted in the middle to make way.

“I can take it,” said Henna.

“No, you cannot,” said Connor.

Henna tried to stand and failed. “Just…just give me a second, dear.”

Reya assumed a defensive stance, her sword outstretched. “Your Highnesses, you must run.”

“Actually, I have a better idea.” The illumination faded from Gabriela’s hands. “Connor — on my signal, kill the Berserker.”

“But how will he be able to hurt it?” said Tryle. “You said yourself it’s theoretically impossible to damage.”

“Under certain conditions. That should change very shortly.”

Connor rotated his right hand by the wrist, as if warming it up. “Finally, a favorable course of action.”

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Cadoc raised a hand weakly. “Connor…don’t.”

The ruby teardrop running through the center of Connor’s blade emitted a lava-like glow. He strode forward, swirling the sword at his side.

“Put your fears aside, Sir Cadoc. I will take down the Berserker Wolf.”

Meanwhile, Gabriela grasped her staff in one hand. The orb at the end gained a brilliant sheen. Lines of gold curved from top to bottom and revolved with intensifying force across its surface, gaining speed with every passing second.

The first Berserker was drawing closer. It teleported from a patch of cloud-shadow to another, never losing it stride. Tryle could swear its fanged mouth was pulled back in a slavering grin.

Connor glanced back. “Gabriela…”

“I know!” Gabriela planted the butt of her staff on the ground and got to her feet.

“You deal in the shadows, huh?” she muttered. “Makes you a tricky beast to pin down. So let’s how you move in the light!” She placed two fingers over her throat and her voice magically magnified, booming over the meadows to the retreating goblins. “All parties — in five seconds, cover your eyes!”

She raised her hand skyward. A golden glow massed in her shoulder and began to flow up her arm as glimmering threads, coalescing into a shining ball in her palm. The ball roiled faster, trembling with unnatural force, and then shot into the sky, climbing higher and higher.

When it reached the apex of its flight, it halted, and Tryle barely had a second to close his eyes before it detonated in a supernova of light.

The Outer Woodlands was blasted into stark relief. Without the depth of shadows, the trees took on a bleached, toothpick appearance. The airborne flare exposed every inch of grass, every nook and cranny of wood, until the landscape turned as flat and dull as clay.

Gabriela’s magical ball hovered in the air like a miniature sun. The illumination was so bright that the moon was only a gossamer parchment canvas beside it.

“Aim for the neck,” said Gabriela hoarsely, her forehead shiny with exertion.

“I know how to kill monsters, Gabriela.”

Connor bent at the knees, holding his sword low at his side. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. His shadow, like everyone else’s, was only a shrunken circle at his feet. Tryle felt his hair wave around his ears as a strange wind picked up around them. The grass curved and thrashed.

The Berserker bared its teeth at the unearthly, alabaster lantern hanging in the black sky. It narrowed its eyes at Tryle’s group and sped into a gallop.

Connor sucked in a breath and exhaled, and Tryle felt his ears pop.

Connor did it again — slow inhale, loud exhale. And then again. His breath misted in the cold air. The world seemed to contract in response to the boy’s breathing like a spring held in place, begging to be released.

In a blink of eye, Connor blasted off like a missile, leaving a giant, flattened circle of grass behind him. The wind roared with his passage, shearing the grass sideways in waves as his body cleared a channel through the field like a rock through water.

The Berserker reared, jaws agape. Connor flew under its outstretched claws and twirled in midair, dealing a massive blow to its stomach. The blade cut through its hide with ease, and the Berserker stumbled. It had no more shadows to hide within, no curtain of darkness to draw down.

Connor righted himself as he landed, his feet carving furrows as his momentum carried him back.

The Berserker looked down at the bloody gash on its midriff and howled.

Connor charged, his sword humming in a deadly circle. But the Berserker had regained its balance. It swiped at Connor’s head and he had to roll away. It pounced, and Connor dodged again, coming up with his sword held tightly in both hands.

They circled each other. The Berserker held its head low. Its ears were flattened back, a snarl etched onto its muzzle. It was hurt. Its ribs dripped with blood. Connor reached no higher than half its foreleg, but the thing seemed to be treating him as a real threat.

It feinted with one paw and slashed down with the other. Connor flicked its claws aside and countered with a slash of his own. They exchanged a few more blows before the Berserker leapt at him and slammed its giant claws down in an explosion of dirt and grass.

But Connor had disappeared, whirling away only to blast back in, sliding on his knees while he slashed back and forth at the Berserker’s lower body. The Berserker howled again as the tendons in one of its legs were sliced into ribbons.

The Berserker lunged ungainly, relying now on three legs instead of four. Its claws blurred through the air, swiping in opposite directions like dual sides of a bear trap, forcing Connor to backpedal while he blocked the incoming blows with his sword. Quick as a viper, the Berker jutted its neck forward and bit down.

But Connor was quicker. He slipped to the side and flipped over its back. The Berserker flailed its claws wildly, but Connor had landed on its blind side. He bounced on his heels and brought his sword down on the other side of the Berserker’s neck.

One side of the Berserker’s neck gaped. Skeins of ropy flesh hung off the sides. Its crimson eyes blazed with hate.

Then space clenched in on itself. Tryle couldn’t see from that far away, but he knew Connor had drawn breath again.

The Berserker roared in defiance. Connor’s body blurred. He vaulted into an aerial cartwheel over the Berserker’s head and swung a mighty backhand cut, his sword roaring into a crescent of flame and cleaving straight through the top of the Berserker’s neck.

For a moment, the monstrous wolf teetered on its three remaining limbs. Its head wobbled puppet-like as a deep, gulping whine bubbled out the wide bellows of its throat. Then its legs collapsed out from under it and the huge body slumped over. The only thing that moved was the flickering collar of fire ringing the top of its severed neck.