The construct that formed was terrifying to behold.
A giant warrior of pure shadow and malice rose from the pavilion floor, standing fifteen feet tall, its armor sculpted from the darkness between worlds. The torchlight dimmed in its presence, as though the creature drank the illumination itself. In its massive hands materialized a spear—black lightning crackling along its length, bending the air around it. Its jagged tip pulsed with hunger, aimed directly at Prince Vlaran's heart.
The shadow warrior moved with impossible speed for something so massive.
The wind howled with its motion—then came the impact.
