Bathed in shimmering gold light, a white string—no longer than a few inches—materialized in Damien's left hand. In his right, he gripped his silver dagger, wet but familiar.
His body dripped with blue blood, soaking his hair and clothes until he resembled something primal, half-human, half-beast. He stood tall amidst the carnage, lips curled into a manic grin, as the last of the Lizard riders writhed in Joseph's encroaching flames.
But just before the fire could claim both mount and rat, the silk in Damien's fist snapped forward.
It unspooled like a serpent tasting blood, slithering through the air with purpose.
Then, as the silk threaded its way through the wall of fire, it coiled around the back of the Lizard perched atop its rat, a bone dagger clutched in its clawed hand.
Damien's fingers tightened around the strand. With a sharp pull, the creature was yanked backward, hissing and flailing until its body lurched toward him.
