There was no way.
That thing was colossal. It was clearly a creature that had torn Oathran from the sky and left him broken and bleeding in the sand. It had coiled damn through the clouds like they were nothing!
Cecilia frowned, wanting to shake her head. "Are you asking us to defeat it, dear gods?"
she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant rumble of the vortex.
"Do you want to try?"
The voice came from directly behind her.
Cecilia spun, still cradling Oathran's head against her chest. Arkai and Eastiel whirled as well, their bodies instinctively moving to shield her and their fallen brother.
The figure behind them was seven feet tall.
He was handsome, yet terrifying.
Elegant bones and perfect symmetry interrupted by open wounds that did not heal. Scars ran through his visage like rivers through ancient earth, pulling back the skin of his cheek to reveal the bone beneath, the straight edge of teeth that should have been hidden.
