Prologue

100 Years in the past.
Something was stalking them, and it felt like Death.

Thomas Mycroft and five young rangers-in-training sprinted through the bright moonlight toward the White Woods and out of the Wastelands’ blighted fields. The woods had been so named because the trees were petrified.

Up ahead, he noticed the dead trees and how strangely beautiful they looked. Moonlight filtered through the bare white branches and reflected off the smooth trunks, creating the impression that the trees were glowing softly.

He slowed to a trot as he left the Wastelands and entered the White Woods. Some said this land was haunted because an ancient battle had occurred here. The magic that had been unleashed had not only killed men and beasts but also the forest itself.

Thomas paused for a moment before continuing his run. He called upon all his senses in an effort to figure out what out there was putting him on edge. An uneasy feeling had the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

He searched for something that wasn’t supposed to be here, something out of place. It was irritating that it seemed just out of his grasp. Something evil had disturbed his visceral sense of rightness. He’d learned to trust that instinct at an early age.

His band of young rangers had been on a training mission. Everything had been going well when Thomas had suddenly felt the pressure in the back of his head, as though someone—or something—was trying to get in. Whoever or whatever had tried to invade his mind then retreated, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. Then he could no longer sense it. He only knew that something was seriously wrong.

Thomas led his charges to a small, round clearing surrounded by a ring of tiny gray stones. He could feel the traces of protection still present in the glade. It gave him a chance to check his trainees to see if any of them were acting strangely, as if they were under magical influence. They all seemed to be eager to prove themselves, and Thomas didn’t sense anything wrong in any of them. But then, what was he feeling?

Thomas took a deep breath and quieted his mind as he gave a hand signal to tell his team to keep watch. He could feel his heart beating like the wings of a frightened bird. He focused on calming himself from whatever had spooked him.

Thomas did as he was trained and scanned the area in a quick, methodical manner. He took in a deep breath and smelled the scent of the rich earth and the sweat from his exertion. Thomas heard the insects and birds and could almost taste the humidity in the air. He put his palm against the ground and used his woodlore to feel the surrounding forest.

There was a snap of a twig that was too close for comfort, and the forest went quiet. Thomas opened his eyes, found an arrow in his quiver, and put the nock over the string of his bow. The other five young rangers did the same, each watching in a different direction as they had been trained.

Something told him they had to move, and fast. Thomas gave them hand signals, and they all broke cover and headed down the hill. He could hear the river, swollen from the spring thaw, moving fast. He needed to get his charges across the water.

The feeling of foreboding was almost overwhelming, as if the hounds of Hell were on their heels. Thomas could tell it was affecting them all. He gave a deep sigh when his trainees forgot what they had learned about moving quietly and began to run headlong down the hill, making enough noise to wake the dead.

Whatever was after them seemed pleased with their fear, as if the chase was going to be over soon. He knew he had to do something, or they would all die.

Thomas saw a partially downed tree to the left and ran up its side so he could get high enough to see what was coming after them. His heart threatened to explode when he beheld a pack of the most enormous wolves he had ever seen trotting down the hill. It was as if they were herding him and his charges toward something.

His senses told him they were dangerous but that there was something far worse ahead of them.

The wolves were at the extreme edge of his bow range as he drew back and let fly his first arrow, followed immediately by another. He had aimed at the two largest males in the center of the pack. As soon as he let loose, a small female jumped in front of the males and cut them off, as if to protect them. The two arrows took her down.

The pack stopped to figure out what had happened, and then the largest male looked him in the eye. Thomas felt an instinctual fear; this was no ordinary wolf. This wolf had intelligence that shouldn’t be there. Thomas was more afraid than he had been in years. He jumped off the tree and ran for his life, not caring how much noise he made. His only goal was to get to the river before the pack.

As he ran, Thomas prayed that he wouldn’t step in a hole or trip over a root. He heard a howl that caused the forest to explode. It seemed every animal that had hunkered down to hide broke cover in terror. He knew the call was for him, so he ran even faster, knowing the wolves would soon be on him.