Matthew held the staff Silvanus had given him—though Silvanus had graciously called it a "sceptre."
He lowered his gaze to the worm squirming on the ground.
It was enormous—about a third of his own size—and was pinned to the ground by Silvanus's arrow of light. No matter how it struggled, it couldn't break free.
In Matthew's eyes, its body writhed continuously, each fold of flesh twisting and trembling in despair.
Matthew tightened his grip on the staff, panting heavily. His legs trembled, sweat slicking his palms until it felt like the staff might slip right out of his grasp. Yet his eyes remained wide open, reflecting the ugly, writhing silhouette of the creature before him.
"What's wrong with you?" Silvanus's voice suddenly rang out from behind. Matthew shook his head hard, then abruptly lunged forward. His eyes widened as he raised the staff and repeatedly struck the shadow creature.
The shadow creature was smashed to pieces, black fluid splattering everywhere.
