Echoes of a Shattered Age by R. J. Terrell Page B

would find a grotesque death here. He concentrated on his body, cooling his temperature to radiate less warmth, and subsequently less light. Satisfied, he continued.
    His descent stretched from minutes to what seemed like hours till he came upon a chasm that descended into thick blackness. With a sigh, he extended all four of his dragonfly-like wings and leapt into the pit, and toward Grala’s lair. An ear-splitting screech spun Zreal around just in time to avoid a slash at his back by yet another resident horror. A Bachattta.
    The creature looked somewhat like a twisted combination between a mosquito and a hellhound. Its foul, leathery skin was as black as coal, with wings protruding from its narrow back. Zreal was not fooled by the way its arms and legs hung limply as it flew. Its hound-like head was long and narrow, with a deep maw designed for gripping and tearing. The bat-winged creature descended upon its intended prey with hunger in its black eyes. Bachatttas could be dangerous in groups, but a single one was no match for the zetsuan. Zreal smothered his fear and batted the wicked thing aside with a right-handed swipe.
    The creature tumbled head over heels through the air, and Zreal flew after it. They crashed into the wall of the chasm in an explosion of rock that tumbled into the darkness below. Zreal tore the wings from the screaming bachattta and hopped away from the wall, his four wings beating to keep him hovering in place. Assuring himself that there was no more threat, he discarded the ruined wings and continued his descent. Glowing eyes watched him from every direction as he glided ever downward, but the savageness with which he’d dealt with the bachattta afforded him some measure of respect.
    Not taking any chances, however, Zreal increased his speed. He weaved his way around the many Bachatttas and other creatures of the darkness until he finally came to the floor of the chasm. Fourteen stalagmites stood as tall as the remaining skyscrapers of the human cities.
    Foreseeing the possibility of Brit ordering his journey into the abyss, Zreal had taken it upon himself to study their demonic allies. There was a tome in the Drek’s vast library named The Chronicles of the Order of Nyrr . Within the pages of the book, there was a detailed account of a conflict involving the lord of the Quentranzi. Grala had been narrowly defeated in a battle against another major demon and was forced to find another place to dwell. In a fit of rage, Grala had leaped into a large pit that descended to an unknown depth. The Quentranzi hit the ground with such force that it sent shockwaves throughout the dark plane and actually pushed the platform down to an even greater depth. The end result was this throne room and the fourteen huge stalagmites that had punched through the ground. Zreal didn’t know which was worse, the thought of a raging Grala, or that there could be another fiend more powerful than the Quentranzi lord. Zreal had an overhead view of the throne room, but as he neared, the stalagmites began to grow and curve inward, forming a dome that blocked his entrance. Zreal altered his course and landed at the base of the stalagmite dome and a safe distance from its keeper. The zetsuan stalked up to the impressively large creature that barred his entrance. Zreal first took it to be some sort of twisted hydra, but the thing had four legs and the faces of each of its ten heads had sharp teeth and eyes and looked grotesquely human. Zreal stopped before the twisted horror and declared his business.
    “I wish to meet with the mighty Grala.”
    One of the ugly heads lowered in front of him and he could smell its hot foul breath as it breathed in his scent. “Are you afraid, mortal creature?” Its gurgling voice sent shudders through his body. “The deeper the fear, the sweeter the meat—”
    Zreal whipped out a hand and sank his claws into its scaled neck. “You might make a meal of me, but you will have just enough time