Lord Athan blurred down the stairs in the barbican to the front doors to where he left his Beloved Salome. The others followed behind, and were met with his maddening roar.
Salome’s body was gone.
They searched the battlement’s edifice, but there was no sign of her in any way. The place had swallowed her up and was as empty as they had found it.
“Time to leave this s**t-show.” Lord Athan’s numb expression said volumes. Raith clasped his brother’s shoulder, squeezing it. He looked at Ambrose who nodded at his king.
Battle-ready, Raith opened the front door of the barbican. The cadre spilled out onto the portico, lining the expanse as they faced the stone bridge that they must cross. The Guardians of Arkadía had resumed their hiding places; no werewolf was outside
