The woods seemed to get darker with each step. Just moments ago there had been a thick canopy of leaves, but just ahead there was nothing but bare, spidery branches clawing at the sky. The ground was ashen and the only sound they could hear was a foreboding, whistling wind.

“Not far now…” Rembrandt grunted, his breath escaping in wisps of vapor. His hand stayed near the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at a moments notice.

Beside him, Jared pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “This place feels like death.” he muttered.

As they came closer to the old church, Claire pushed ahead between them. “Hush, you two.” She motioned to stay back a few paces, then approached the broken doorway. There was a hint of movement within, shadows, a glimpse of red scales, and then a pair of glowing yellow eyes lowered to meet the gypsy’s.

“Why do you lead hunters here, woman?” a low voice growled.

“Because you’re going to help us.” Claire replied, smiling coyly. “How are your wings since we last met, Firebrand?”