NOLA REYNOLDS

I could still hear the screaming after I’d ducked under the scribe’s rubik table in the Lycan’s throne room.

We weren't even two days in from the cave and it was already a mess.

“Saints no! Please,” I whimpered, hugging my knees to my chest and clapping my hands to my ears as the screams from outside threatened to consume my mind and snapping my eyes open when the odd thumb came again.

What the hell was that? 

My heart hammered between my ribs as I moved my eyes from the brass plate of the door to the sepia-shadowed blackness of the window.

Empty. But it had come...