The figures wore the same silver-trimmed grey coats and white ceramic wolf masks. But the man standing in the center was different. He was taller, broader, and carried a massive two-handed black-iron broadsword that was dripping with dark, crackling purple electricity.
"Well, well, well," the leader chuckled, his voice deep, raspy, and thoroughly amused as he stepped over the rubble. "Look what we have here. A bunch of lost little lambs."
His glowing purple eyes scanned our group, sweeping past Des, Kai, and Pearl, before stopping dead on Malachi. The leader's grin grew wider behind his ceramic mask.
"Look at that emblem on his jacket," the leader whispered to his men, pointing his massive sword straight at Malachi's chest. "That's the royal crest of Astra. We just struck absolute gold, boys. Grab the prince alive—kill the rest."
"Attack them now!" the leader screamed, pointing his giant dark broadsword directly at our group.
