The four hunters pressed their foreheads against the throne room floor. Borris's ribs still ached where that lizard had slammed its tail into him, sending him flying like a child's toy.
Beside him, Misha, Jako, and Goran kept their heads down, breathing shallow and careful.
Above them, Silas sat on his throne of black geode, polishing a petrified human hand with silk. The statues around them watched with stone eyes, some mid-scream, others reaching for help that never came.
"Explain."
Borris swallowed hard, tasting blood from where he'd bitten his tongue during the fight. "My lord, he wasn't what we expected. The man could vanish and reappear instantly, like smoke."
"He teleported."
"His tactics were insane," Misha kept her voice steady, though her hands trembled. "He threw his companion at us like a weapon. Used our own karens against us. There was no pattern, no logic to predict."
