“What the hell!” Jiryn complained, scowling at the billowing flames and smoke around them. “What kinda idiot starts a fire out in a dead forest like this? They tryin’ to get killed?!”

“The very reason we’re here is because of this fire, Jiryn,” Aelin said. “It was set by a monster, not a person. Has anyone pinpointed the location of the source yet?”

“Two and a half hops southwest,” Ira said. “Whatever created the fire is still at it. We’ll have to be careful getting closer. Do we have the sedatives ready?”

“Locked and loaded,” Serafin replied. “Awaiting your orders, Captain.”

Aelin nodded and slid his faruguin from his back. “Proceed with caution.”

The four of them moved toward the source of the fire. After two hops, their target became visible.

“Take positions,” Aelin called.

He settled into a crouch and examined what was ahead of them.

What he saw at first was a squirming mass caught in a net. He realized that the net was made of shimmering gold and cinnabar threads—a Druid-Binding Net. For a moment, he was curious; why would someone hunt for druids here on this random mountain? It was unlikely that the recent problems in the area were caused by a shapeshifter. . .

He focused on the struggling form in the net. Now that he paid attention, it was the slender form of a young male humanoid, perhaps twenty years of age. That body’s muscles were flexible and strong. The net containing it was beginning to show signs of wear in its threads; give the youth a few more days and nights to twist and writhe and blast fire, and he would surely break free.

Then that young one jerked again, and Aelin saw his face.

It was delicately handsome, with sharp features as pale and fine as white jade. A tangled mess of red hair framed that face, and a pair of shocking red eyes stared out from it. Panic and anger were etched into every line and every plane of that beautiful countenance.

Aelin had originally planned to play a subduing melody—one to put their target to sleep. But seeing the expression on the youth’s face as he fought violently to escape the netting, he decided to play a calming melody instead.

The notes rang out over the roar of the flames, and suddenly the youth went still and rigid. His gaze found Aelin in an instant, locking onto him. Aelin continued to play his song, and after several long moments, the youth relaxed, hanging limp in the Druid-Binding Net. Aelin gave Serafin the signal, and two sedative rounds embedded themselves in the young man’s arm.

“Cut the net,” Aelin ordered. “Carefully. Do not injure him.”

Jiryn sliced the top of the net, then caught the falling youth. He carried him over to Aelin, who lifted him and laid him upon the ground. He took a moment to extinguish the fires burning around them, then crouched at the young man's side and checked his vitals.

“Looks like a fox druid,” Jiryn said. “Must be pretty green if he got caught in a binding net that easily.”

“Mm, it would seem that way,” Aelin said. He examined the young man closer and frowned. “But that is exactly what’s amiss. No newborn druid has a form this good. Sturdy bone structure, good muscle, excellent motor control. And such strong fire magic. . .”

Jiryn crouched as well and peeled back the youth’s eyelid. “He’s got the eyes of a yaoka. Must be half druid, half fire yaoka. Or at least have a bit of both in his bloodline from somewhere.”

Aelin was still frowning. “Even yaoka need time to cultivate their skills and strength. He must be two centuries old, at least.”

Jiryn shrugged. “Maybe he’s mentally impaired.”

"Jiryn," Aelin reprimanded tiredly.

“There’s also a chance he hasn’t developed full awareness yet,” Serafin said, walking over. “Many druids take over a millennium before they develop self-awareness. Yaoka tend to develop it within their first century, but as he’s a half-breed, who knows how long it would be for him.”

Aelin straightened up with a sigh. “We will find out when he wakes. Jiryn, tend to him and make sure he has no injuries. Ira, Serafin—the three of us will put out the fires.”

"Understood!"