night.
A howl like a steam train pierced the air. It shook Cross’ bones and froze his blood. The sound rattled the very framework of the sky.
The shadows took form. Glimmering scales like steaming black gems shone in the light of the dismal moon. A semblance of limbs moved in a column of grey and black fog. Its eyes were white pits. Its breaths crystallized the air and turned it to gray snow.
The vast form was without true dimension or limit. It bled from the darkness of the night, and the night, in turn, bled from it. Its smoking husk oozed shadows like dust.
It was Dra’aalthakmar: the Sleeper. Cross and Dillon had been sent to find Woman in the Ice, the only known means of stopping the shadow beast, but neither of them had expected to face it.
It’s already awake , Cross realized in horror. It rested here.
Follow and you will find.
They’d been sent to find the means to stop this ancient creature, not to stop it themselves.
The air swirled with dark grit. The darkness in the area turned solid. Proximity to the shadow meant death.
They couldn’t speak. Drawing breath felt like swallowing sand. The night collapsed around them.
Cross looked around. The faces of his companions bled like watercolors. His spirit melted over his body, pulled him down as if into a tidal pool. He took hold of someone’s hand, but it was difficult to tell whose.
The Dra’aalthakmar’s form expanded. In moments, it would engulf them.
Ahead, near the truck, something that still held a solid form walked toward them. It was like a torch in the darkness, bright and clear, unaffected by the molten shadows.
Lucan.
Cross sensed the primal spirit. It was like standing at the head of a tidal wave. Most spirits whispered: Lucan’s screamed. It was a choir of desperate voices. The air was crowded with the souls of the lost.
Cross collapsed. Dillon and Cole had already fallen; Black was only barely conscious, just like Cross.
Lucan’s eyes were open and clear. Hot white lightning danced on his open palms.
Cross smelled ionized wind, and he tasted ozone. Everything shifted around Lucan, like he was a bubble of pure air that moved through polluted waters. The darkness split around him and recoiled. Lucan walked without hesitation straight onto the black lake and towards the massive humanoid that had formed out of the steel hard shadows.
Lucan is the weapon we were meant to find , Cross realized. His ancient and primal spirit is what we need, not the Woman in the Ice.
Why were we sent to find the Woman, then?
Cross hauled Black to her feet. Cole and Dillon were slower to rise, but they seemed to be all right. Everyone was dazed and weak. They looked pale, and their clothing and hair were covered with dust.
The darkness receded, and left them. It focused on its new enemy.
Lucan and the Dra’aalthakmar battled on the lake. It was a constrained melee, a bottled maelstrom. Cross felt the lick of hex energies and the ripple of arctic flames. He smelled acetone and heard dull explosions issue from the inside of a fog made of alternating light and dark.
They saw little of the actual battle from their vantage. Everything was a storm of white shadows and black dust.
No one spoke. Even Cross didn’t fully understand what it was they saw.
They were so distracted by the fighting that none of them noticed the vampires until it was too late.
Shadowclaws – Ebon Cities elite soldiers – flew at the group on Razorwings, large flying reptiles with bone spurs that jutted from their leathery skin. The beasts had huge hinged jaws, like those of a piranha, and their oily flesh smelled of turpentine and smoke.
A dark net weighted with black spheres caught Dillon and Cole and brought them to the ground. Danica fired her pistol and readied her spirit, but whatever she planned to do was interrupted as a bone spear pierced through her shoulder. She fell, screaming.
Cross watched the riders approach. He hadn’t realized it was dawn. The wine-dark
A howl like a steam train pierced the air. It shook Cross’ bones and froze his blood. The sound rattled the very framework of the sky.
The shadows took form. Glimmering scales like steaming black gems shone in the light of the dismal moon. A semblance of limbs moved in a column of grey and black fog. Its eyes were white pits. Its breaths crystallized the air and turned it to gray snow.
The vast form was without true dimension or limit. It bled from the darkness of the night, and the night, in turn, bled from it. Its smoking husk oozed shadows like dust.
It was Dra’aalthakmar: the Sleeper. Cross and Dillon had been sent to find Woman in the Ice, the only known means of stopping the shadow beast, but neither of them had expected to face it.
It’s already awake , Cross realized in horror. It rested here.
Follow and you will find.
They’d been sent to find the means to stop this ancient creature, not to stop it themselves.
The air swirled with dark grit. The darkness in the area turned solid. Proximity to the shadow meant death.
They couldn’t speak. Drawing breath felt like swallowing sand. The night collapsed around them.
Cross looked around. The faces of his companions bled like watercolors. His spirit melted over his body, pulled him down as if into a tidal pool. He took hold of someone’s hand, but it was difficult to tell whose.
The Dra’aalthakmar’s form expanded. In moments, it would engulf them.
Ahead, near the truck, something that still held a solid form walked toward them. It was like a torch in the darkness, bright and clear, unaffected by the molten shadows.
Lucan.
Cross sensed the primal spirit. It was like standing at the head of a tidal wave. Most spirits whispered: Lucan’s screamed. It was a choir of desperate voices. The air was crowded with the souls of the lost.
Cross collapsed. Dillon and Cole had already fallen; Black was only barely conscious, just like Cross.
Lucan’s eyes were open and clear. Hot white lightning danced on his open palms.
Cross smelled ionized wind, and he tasted ozone. Everything shifted around Lucan, like he was a bubble of pure air that moved through polluted waters. The darkness split around him and recoiled. Lucan walked without hesitation straight onto the black lake and towards the massive humanoid that had formed out of the steel hard shadows.
Lucan is the weapon we were meant to find , Cross realized. His ancient and primal spirit is what we need, not the Woman in the Ice.
Why were we sent to find the Woman, then?
Cross hauled Black to her feet. Cole and Dillon were slower to rise, but they seemed to be all right. Everyone was dazed and weak. They looked pale, and their clothing and hair were covered with dust.
The darkness receded, and left them. It focused on its new enemy.
Lucan and the Dra’aalthakmar battled on the lake. It was a constrained melee, a bottled maelstrom. Cross felt the lick of hex energies and the ripple of arctic flames. He smelled acetone and heard dull explosions issue from the inside of a fog made of alternating light and dark.
They saw little of the actual battle from their vantage. Everything was a storm of white shadows and black dust.
No one spoke. Even Cross didn’t fully understand what it was they saw.
They were so distracted by the fighting that none of them noticed the vampires until it was too late.
Shadowclaws – Ebon Cities elite soldiers – flew at the group on Razorwings, large flying reptiles with bone spurs that jutted from their leathery skin. The beasts had huge hinged jaws, like those of a piranha, and their oily flesh smelled of turpentine and smoke.
A dark net weighted with black spheres caught Dillon and Cole and brought them to the ground. Danica fired her pistol and readied her spirit, but whatever she planned to do was interrupted as a bone spear pierced through her shoulder. She fell, screaming.
Cross watched the riders approach. He hadn’t realized it was dawn. The wine-dark
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