She flings my sickle behind her, treating it like a common dagger.
The steel vanishes into the darkness, clattering against the stone. She doesn’t even blink at the gash in her pam where the blade sliced deep.
The crying swells.
Her mouth widens and she lunges, fingers outstretched, nails sharpened and seeking flesh.
I narrowly dodge, twisting to the side as her hands swipe through the space. My boot digs into the packed earth, grounding me as I unsheathe my second blade.
She halts mid-motion.
A scream of frustration rips from her throat, and she starts changing. Her arms snap outward, flaring at her sides like the spread of a winged creature ready to take flight.
Joints pop. Bones stretch. Skin tears. Her arms lengthen, skin splitting over the shoulders as new bone pushes through. Her legs follow, ripping open at the calves and quads, the muscle warping—expanding—shifting into a form built for speed.
She drops onto all fours.
Long clawed fingers dig into the stone, locking into the earth. Blood pumps into the spaces around bones as her entire skeletal structure shifts, stretching and adapting for explosive movement. Her spine arches, vertebrae snapping into a more canine-like posture. The monstrosity before me carries the face of a child, but its body now resembles something canine— Lycanthropic in nature.
There are creatures that can mimic human form, some that can change their bodies.
But not like this.
This is something else—an evolution. A forced one.
The same kind of corruption Cage has spoken of. The same kind they still don’t fully understand. Of course, Nora desired whatever the North has—it is capable of creation.
Gods create.
The creature lunges, using its new form to close the distance between us instantly. Her cries still echo around the cavern, but I don’t run. Instead, I sprint forward to meet her head on, blade aimed straight for the skull.
The impact is sickening. Steel drives into the bone. The curved steel cuts deep, splitting down into the creature’s neck.
A shrill screech erupts from her throat. Its front arms thrash violently, trying to dislodge me.
It can’t touch me. Every blow lands against a conjured shimmering black orb shield, faint streaks of blue crackling along its surface as it encases me.
I smirk and twist my blade.
The creature’s neck gives.
Muscle and sinew shear apart as I shift my weight, bracing my bicep beneath the hilt before wrenching the sickle sword outward in a brutal twist. The maneuver slices cleanly through her neck.
A pool of onyx spews from the side of her neck, bursting in thick, viscous waves after my final strike. The blood sizzles. It splatters against my shield, hissing as it trickles down the barrier. Pieces of her esophagus slip from my blade, and the heaps of tissue hit the ground with a sickening splat.
Her form wavers, as if deciding whether or not it should fall. Then she crumples. No final twitch. Just a hollow collapse.
I let out a slow breath. It’s done. My shield retracts. The air shudders as the energy dissipates, leaving only the stink of corpse. I crouch, reaching for my satchel, ready to clean off myblade before the corrosive blood can do any lasting damage. Then—
A loud cry splits the cavern.
Deafening.
The shrilling cry makes the walls shake violently. Dust rains from the ceiling as loose stones crack and drop, shattering upon impact.
My head snaps upwards.
Between two stalactites, something stirs, and I should have seen it before.
