Three out of five. Those were the odds. Three out of five new recruits would die within their first cycle as a Hunter.

Lungs burning, he charged forward, shadows gathering around him. Perhaps he could outrun them. But he'd never been able to before.

Wood and fabric, a symbol of a time long gone. That was not where Masiah dwelled. Not in a temple. Not high up in the oasis hills, as some claimed. If he dwelled anywhere at all, it was not in this forsaken oasis.

That’s right. A halfblood. A halfblood with the skills and the talent to fight alongside the best. They’d all seen her. Who were the Hunters to turn her down after that? They wouldn’t dare.