He was screwed.
The shimmering blade was a breath away from his neck when the sharp hiss of something slicing through the air split the tension.
Then came the scream.
"Aaaargh!"
Amon staggered back, his attack cut short as an arrow punched clean through his hand.
His staff slipped from his grip, clattering against the ground as he clutched his wrist with a snarl of pain. Blood dripped between his fingers, his eyes wide as he snapped his head toward the source of the strike.
Zarah.
He recognized her instantly, the defiant archer who had once fallen into his hands during his first encounter with Eli. She was no longer a captive, no longer trembling in fear.
Now she stood tall, bowstring drawn taut, her gaze locked on him with steady, merciless focus.
Her next arrow was already loosed, whistling through the air with deadly precision.
But Amon reacted with desperate speed.
