Bodies lay scattered across the flagstones like broken dolls, their blood black in the firelight. The gathering point had become a killing ground. Near the well, a desperate knot of survivors fought with anything they could find—pitchforks, torches, chairs from the tavern. Among them, Ren recognized the baker, Emma's father, his face streaked with tears as he swung a rolling pin with desperate strength.

  A monster easily twelve feet tall stalked the edges of their makeshift circle. Unlike the others, this one moved with deliberate slowness, almost seeming to savor their fear. Its exposed brain pulsed, the surrounding fires casting a pale glow over muscles that rippled like steel cables beneath translucent skin. Each step it took left smoking footprints in the cobblestones.

  Willem changed course without hesitation, placing himself between the creature and the survivors. His axe moved in devastating arcs, buying time for the others to run. The huge creature focused on him, its lipless mouth spreading in what might have been a grin.

  The clash was like watching a bear fight a wolf. The monster was bigger, stronger, faster—but Willem moved with the inevitability of a glacier, his axe finding its mark again and again. Black blood ran in rivers around his feet as he wounded the creature repeatedly, never giving ground, never showing pain despite the deep gouges appearing in his flesh.

  Ren found his moment. With trembling hands, he pulled one of the throwing axes from the bandolier. The weapon felt awkward, too heavy toward the blade, but he remembered the older boys' lessons. Plant your feet. Let the axe do the work. Follow through.

  His first throw went wide, clattering uselessly against the well. The second, though—the second caught the monster in its exposed spine just as it reared back to strike at Willem. The creature's roar of pain shook the very stones beneath their feet, shattering windows that had somehow survived the chaos.

  Willem seized the opportunity. He planted his feet, waited for the monster to rear up to its full height, and threw his axe with everything he had. The weapon spun through the air like a deadly pinwheel, burying itself in the creature's glowing brain. It fell with an earth-shaking crash that scattered the smaller hunters.

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  In the moment of chaos, the survivors broke and ran. The baker caught Ren's eye as he passed, nodding once in desperate gratitude before vanishing down an alley with the others. Willem retrieved his axe without a word, his movements noticeably stiffer now. Blood ran from a dozen wounds, but his eyes remained fixed forward as he gestured for Ren to follow.

  They pushed on through the burning town, Willem's pace slowing but never stopping. His breathing grew wet and labored, blood occasionally spraying from his lips with each exhale, but still he moved forward with terrible purpose. The throwing axes proved their worth several times as more hunters found them, buying precious seconds for Willem's devastating counter-attacks.

  Past the tanner's shop they went, the smell of burning leather almost masking the other, worse smells. Through the temple courtyard, where the morning's bell-ringer still hung from the rope he'd used to sound the alarm. Down the cooper's lane, where barrels had broken open and spilled their contents, turning the street into a river of wine and ale that mixed with darker fluids.

  Ren began to recognize the path they were taking. "The farm," he gasped between ragged breaths. "We're heading to your farm."

  Willem's only response was to move faster, though the effort cost him. Fresh blood flowed from his wounds, and his next swing at a hunter lacked its previous precision. Still, the axe found its mark, and they pressed on.

  The town walls fell behind them as they crossed the northern fields. The wheat was already burning, creating a hellish tunnel of flame they had to navigate. The heat was incredible, singeing Ren's hair and making his eyes water. Willem didn't seem to notice, though his skin reddened and blistered.

  More hunters emerged from the burning grain, their exposed flesh blackened but unmarred by the flames. Willem's axe rose and fell, again and again, but Ren could see the toll it was taking. The farmer's movements grew slower, his mighty swings requiring visible effort where before they had flowed like water.

  An especially large hunter caught Willem with a backhand blow that sent him stumbling. Ren's heart leaped into his throat, but before he could throw another axe, Willem was up again. He spat blood and teeth onto the burning ground, then brought his weapon around in a devastating arc that separated the creature's arm from its body.

  The dismembered limb continued to twitch and claw at the earth as they ran past.

  Finally, mercifully, the farmhouse appeared through the smoke like a dream of better days. Willem's stride hitched for just a moment before he shouldered through the door, Ren close behind.

  The silence inside was absolute.