ShadowBound: The Need For Power

By the time they neared the outer perimeter of Veyrhold, the sky had begun to lighten only slightly, turning the dark above the treetops into a deeper gray rather than true dawn. The forest thinned in broken patches. Old road stones appeared beneath roots, drainage channels lined the ground, and fragments of ruined walls emerged from the mist like the bones of some buried settlement.

The air felt heavier here, pressed down by the presence of Veyrhold’s outer defenses. Through the trees ahead, the great wall rose in damaged sections, taller than Asher expected and dark against the mist collecting at its base.

He slowed.

The others did too.

Then he saw movement along the top of the wall.

A silhouette stood or shifted against the broken stone, partially hidden by the uneven parapet and the lingering darkness. At first, Asher thought it might be a threat. It was too still to be an ordinary wandering creature, but too placed to be meaningless. He lifted a hand, and the four students froze behind him.

"Stay hidden," he said quietly. "No talking."

He slipped off his field bag and shoved it into the injured boy’s hands before the boy could protest. Then Asher moved toward one of the taller nearby trees. He climbed fast and controlled, using the trunk and lower branches with the ease of someone who trusted his body more than most people trusted ground. A brief pulse of blue flame helped him reach a higher branch without shaking the entire tree, and he crouched there, one hand braced against the bark as he studied the wall.

The silhouette did not move like a beast.

It was positioned too deliberately, angled toward the inside of Veyrhold rather than outward, attention focused downward into the settlement. Its stillness was not hunger. It was observation. The posture was familiar too, irritatingly so. Weight controlled. Shoulders quiet. Head slightly tilted in that dead-eyed way that made it seem like the person was judging something several steps before it happened.

Asher’s eyes narrowed.

Of course.

He leaned forward just enough for his voice to carry.

"Oi, dead-eyed bastard. What the hell are you doing up there?"

On the wall, Liam did not turn immediately.

He recognized Asher’s voice before the words finished traveling. He stood near the broken edge of the parapet, dark field uniform blending with the stone and shadows, hair tied back roughly enough to be functional but not neat, his attention still half-placed on the inner settlement below. Then he looked down toward the tree where Asher crouched.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other across the distance.

Before Liam could answer properly, Asher’s irritation made waiting unacceptable. Blue flame burst beneath his feet, controlled and sharp, launching him from the tree toward the wall in a clean arc. He landed on the great wall in a crouch several paces from Liam, one hand touching the stone to steady himself. Heat rippled once beneath his boots before fading. He stood and walked toward Liam with a scowl.

"I do not like being looked down on," Asher said.

Liam’s eyes moved over him briefly. "Then stop standing below people."

Asher’s jaw tightened. "You are always like this."

"You asked."

"I asked what you were doing."

"And complained about height."

"I was making a point."

"Well, you failed."

Asher’s fingers flexed once, a small lick of blue fire threatening to wake around his knuckles before he forced it down. "One day, I am going to burn that tone out of your mouth."

"You will need a better plan than standing lower and yelling."

Asher glared.

Liam looked back toward the settlement.

The exchange irritated Asher, but not in the way it would have months ago. There was no true surprise in it now, only the familiar sharpness of dealing with someone who could make breathing sound like a criticism. Annoying as the dead-eyed bastard was, Asher had to admit that finding him on Veyrhold’s wall before anyone else arrived was not shocking.

"You were first?" Asher asked.

"Yes."

"Figures." Asher stepped closer to the inner edge and looked down. "You landed alone?"

"Yes."

"And just walked here."

"Yes."

"Of course you did."

Liam glanced at him. "Were you alone?"

"Teleported alone," Asher said. "Then I found four weaklings trying to die inside an old waystation."

Liam’s gaze shifted toward the trees below the wall. "They are with you?"

"Hidden below while we speak."

Liam looked down briefly, and Asher could see the moment he found the shapes in the trees without trying too hard. "I never thought you had the patience to lead someone, let alone keep them alive."

Asher’s face sharpened. "I am not leading them. I am preventing them from lowering the year’s score by becoming food."

"That sounds like leadership with worse manners."

"It is not."

"It is."

"I will throw you off this wall."

"You climbed up here because you disliked being looked down on. Throwing me down would recreate your problem."

Asher opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

His glare deepened. "I hate talking to you."

"Good."

The insult sat between them comfortably enough to reveal the respect beneath it. Asher would never say it plainly, and Liam would never ask for it, but neither of them moved as if the other was dead weight. They were too different to be friends in any clean sense, but they understood useful strength when it stood nearby.

Asher looked over Veyrhold’s interior. "So what are you doing on the wall?"

"Checking the state of the settlement before the larger groups arrive," Liam said. "Confirming threats inside. Mapping usable areas. Deciding what needs to be avoided, cleared, or marked first."

Asher’s expression shifted from irritation to focus. "Well?"

Liam lifted his chin slightly toward the southern quarter. "Gravebound Maulers."

Asher followed his gaze. "Where?"

"Old barracks. Collapsed storage house beside the inner courtyard."

Asher narrowed his eyes, scanning through the dimness. At first, he saw only broken roofs, stone walls, and mist moving through the lanes below. Then something large shifted near the barracks.

A hunched shape moved between a torn doorway and the edge of a collapsed structure, its body stone-gray enough to blur with the old masonry. Another followed behind it, thick arms nearly brushing the ground, bone-like growths ridging its shoulders and back. Even from the wall, their size and weight were obvious.

Asher’s scowl turned serious. "I see two."

"There are at least four."

"How do you know?"

Liam pointed slightly upward and inward.

Asher looked.

A small shadow creature perched beneath the edge of a broken roof beam some distance away, nearly invisible against the dark except for the faint ember-like eyes along its narrow crown. It looked like an owl if an owl had been drowned in smoke and taught to resent light, with a narrow head, folded wings edged in dissolving shadow, and a body too slight to be useful in a direct fight. Its head turned slowly, watching the barracks courtyard below.

"What is that?" Asher asked.

"Wing."

Asher stared at him.

Then at the creature.

Then back at him. "You named it Wing?"

"It has wings."

"That is the worst answer you could have given."

"It is accurate."

"It is lazy."

"Accuracy often is."

Asher looked like he genuinely wanted to argue but decided the Maulers deserved more attention than Liam’s terrible naming sense. "What does it do?"

"Aerial scouting, shared sight, and all those stuff. Except combat." Liam’s gaze returned to the barracks.

"So through Wing, you saw four?"

"At least four," Liam said. "Maybe more deeper inside. The barracks are claimed. Claw marks on the doors, bones near the storage house, dragged nesting material. Could be a pack leader inside."

Asher’s expression tightened. "Guide said pack leaders are worse."

"Yes."

"How much worse?"

"Depending on age and feeding, one leader can be equal to several ordinary Maulers. Thicker plating. Stronger bite. More territorial response. Still not brilliant."

"Does not need to be brilliant if it can crush someone through a wall."

"Correct."

Asher looked down toward the trees where his four rescued students remained hidden. For a brief second, he considered using them. Extra eyes. An archer. Bodies to block routes. Then he dismissed it almost immediately. Against Gravebound Maulers, most of them would become distractions at best and broken objects at worst. Kara had some use from range, perhaps, but the others had already proven they needed simple instructions before survival became too theoretical.

"They are dead weight in a direct fight," Asher said.

"Yes."

"If you and I go in, we can handle them."

"Probably," Liam said. "If this were anywhere else."

Asher’s eyes cut to him. "What does that mean?"

"It means Veyrhold is half-ruined. Reckless fighting could collapse usable structures, damage future shelter, destroy defensive points, block streets, contaminate supplies, or create enough noise to draw every nearby threat toward the walls before the second-years arrive."

Asher’s mouth twisted because he did not like the answer, and he liked even less that it was correct.

"So you were standing here thinking yourself into doing nothing?"

"I was standing here thinking how not to make our first contribution to the base structural damage."

"Same thing."

"No."

Asher looked down again, this time studying the layout rather than only the creatures. The barracks sat near a broken lane that opened into a wider courtyard. The storage house beside it was already half-collapsed, useless for shelter but useful as cover. A narrow street led from the southern gate toward that courtyard, meaning Chris’s group, if they came straight through the obvious entrance, could wander dangerously close before realizing what nested there.

The Maulers were heavy and aggressive around enclosed spaces, but not fast in tight turns. If drawn away from the barracks and into the wider courtyard, they would have fewer doors and walls to burst through. Height would matter. Range would matter. Slowing their joints would matter.

Asher’s battle instinct began arranging the problem.

"Kara," he said.

Liam glanced at him.

"One of the weaklings below. Archer. Kara Cale. Not as good as the blond clown, but decent."

"Magic?"

"Ice." Asher looked toward the Maulers again. "She reinforces arrowheads with ice. Can slow joints if she lands clean shots. Frost surfaces. Pin movement briefly. Nothing huge, but from the wall she might actually be useful."

Liam waited.

Asher continued, thinking aloud now, his irritation sharpening into focus. "We draw the Maulers out of the barracks section instead of fighting them inside it. You use that badly named bird to keep sight on the ones we cannot see. I pressure from one side, you from the other. Kara stays on the wall and shoots down into joints, throat folds, exposed ribs, anything that slows them without breaking the settlement. If one charges, she frosts the ground or knee joint. We finish. Fast, controlled, not much noise."

Liam studied the courtyard below, then the wall, then the possible approach routes. The plan was aggressive, but not stupid. That was Asher at his most useful: impatient, direct, but capable of reading a fight once he stopped trying to treat every problem like an insult to his strength.

"I do not see anything wrong with that," Liam said.

Asher looked slightly pleased before Liam added, "If you keep your cool and stick to it."

The pleasure vanished. "I know how to fight."

"You know how to burn things. There is overlap, not sameness."

"Say that again when we are not standing above a Mauler den."

"You chose the timing poorly."

Asher’s glare returned in full. "Just follow the plan, gloom rat."

"That is what I was telling you."

"I hate you."

"No, you do not."

"I am getting closer."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!