The garden did not feel like part of the palace anymore.
It felt wrong.
Not in a way Avery could explain, not something she could point to and name, but something deeper something that pressed against her skin and settled in her chest like a warning she couldn't ignore. The air was colder here, unnaturally so, the kind of cold that didn't belong to spring. It clung to her, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her dress, raising goosebumps along her arms.The fountain behind her trickled softly, the only sound that still felt real. Everything else felt like it was holding its breath.
Avery stood very still, her fingers curled tightly around the golden locket pressed against her chest, grounding herself in something familiar, something safe. Her breathing was uneven, too loud in the silence, and she forced herself to slow it down. Her head stared to spin, she couldn't look away from the trail of blood, the scent, metallic and thick had filled her senses.
That was when she noticed the crows.
They had gone completely still.
Every single one of them.
Perched along the branches above, lining the trees like shadows given shape, their dark feathers blending into the night. Their heads were tilted, watching, listening, waiting but not looking at her. They were looking past her.
Her stomach dropped.Slowly, her grip on the locket loosened, just enough for her to move. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to get back inside, to get somewhere with light and people and noise but something deeper, something sharper, told her not to.
Running would make it worse.
Her breath trembled as she turned.
The bushes ahead shifted.
Not from wind.
From something inside them.
The leaves rustled again, heavier this time, like something was dragging itself forward. Avery's eyes strained against the darkness, her heart pounding louder with every second that passed.
Then she saw them...the red eyes, not the controlled, polished red of a vampire's gaze. These were wrong. Too bright. Too wide. Too alive with something that wasn't intelligence but wasn't mindless either with one thing in its eyes, hunger.
Avery's throat tightened as she took a small step back, her voice barely holding steady. "I'm not food."
The thing didn't respond.
It breathed.
A low, wet, uneven sound, like something struggling to exist in the shape it had been forced into. The sound alone made her skin crawl, made something deep in her chest twist in quiet panic.
Above her, the crows exploded into motion.
Wings beat violently against the air, feathers scattering as they shrieked, sharp and deafening, circling the trees in frantic, chaotic patterns as if they were trying to warn her or drive it away.
"Shut up!" Avery snapped, panic slipping through as she flinched at the noise. "I get it, okay?! I get it!"
The creature moved too fast.
The bushes parted as something stepped forward, not fully, not clearly, but enough for her to see the shape of it. Limbs too long, bending at angles they shouldn't, its body stretched thin like skin pulled too tight over something that didn't belong underneath.
Avery stumbled back, her heel catching against the stone edge of the fountain as her balance gave out and suddenly a hand caught her firm.
"Don't run."
Her breath hitched.
Corbin.
He was there.
She hadn't heard him approach, hadn't felt him until his hand closed around her arm, steadying her, pulling her just slightly behind him. Not fully shielding her, never that, but enough to place himself between her and whatever stood in the dark.
His body had gone still.
Completely still.
And that terrified her more than the creature.
"…what the hell is that?" Avery whispered, her voice barely there.
Corbin didn't answer.
His gaze was locked on the thing ahead, sharp, calculating but beneath that, something else flickered.
Something unfamiliar.
Something close to concern.
The creature stepped further into the moonlight.
Claws caught the light first—long, thin, and jagged, scraping softly against the stone as it dragged itself forward. Its skin looked wrong, stretched and uneven, like it didn't quite belong to the body it covered. And its mouth was too wide, too sharp.
"…it's not supposed to be here," Corbin said quietly, his voice edged with something dangerous.
Avery let out a shaky breath. "That's not comforting."
The creature tilted its head slowly.
Like it was listening.
Like it understood.
Avery felt her stomach drop. "…Corbin," she whispered, "tell me that thing doesn't understand us."
He didn't answer.
Her heart sank.
"Oh, great," she muttered under her breath. "That's just—perfect."
The creature took another step.
Closer.
The crows screamed louder.
And then it lunged.
The movement was violent, sudden, a blur of twisted limbs and snapping claws. Avery barely had time to gasp before Corbin moved, releasing her and stepping forward in one smooth motion.
The impact cracked through the air.
The creature collided with him, claws slashing but they didn't tear through flesh.
They stopped.
As if they had hit something stronger.
Corbin didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
His hand closed around its throat.
Effortless.
The creature thrashed immediately, its body twisting violently, limbs jerking in unnatural directions as it tried to break free. Its claws scraped against him again and again, but it didn't matter. Nothing it did seemed to make a difference.
Corbin held it there like it weighed nothing.
"…you shouldn't have come here," he said quietly.
The creature shrieked.
The sound was unbearable high-pitched, broken, something between a scream and a laugh, and Avery clamped her hands over her ears as it echoed through the garden.
Corbin's expression didn't change.
If anything, it went colder.
"You're not part of this court," he continued, his voice low and controlled. "Which means someone brought you here."
The creature went still.
Just for a second.
Avery saw it.
That pause.
That awareness.
"…who?" Corbin asked.
The creature's mouth opened.
Too wide.
Too wrong.
And then—
it smiled.
Avery felt something twist in her chest. "Oh, hell no…"
A sound escaped it then a low, warped laugh that didn't belong to anything alive.
And suddenly it went limp.
Completely still.
Dead.
Corbin's grip tightened for the briefest moment before he released it, letting the body drop to the ground with a dull, heavy thud.
Silence followed.
The crows quieted again, settling back into the trees, watching.
Avery lowered her hands slowly, her breath shaky as she stared at the thing lying motionless on the ground. "…please tell me that's not normal."
Corbin didn't look at her.
"…no," he said.
A pause.
Then, quieter-
"And that's a problem."
Avery let out a weak breath, running a hand through her hair as she tried to steady herself. "Yeah. No shit."
But something in Corbin shifted.
His gaze lifted.
Not at the creature.
Past it.
Toward the trees.
Toward the darkness beyond.
"…we're not alone," he said.
Avery froze. "You're joking."
A branch creaked softly.
Not from wind.
From weight.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
Something else was there, watching and waiting.
Avery swallowed hard, stepping closer to Corbin without thinking, her voice barely above a whisper. "…friend or enemy?"
Corbin's jaw tightened.
"I don't know."
And that was the most terrifying answer he could have given.
Because if Corbin didn't know then whatever was out there in the dark…Was something even he couldn't control.