Long, deep-violet bat wings unfold from the darkness. Clawed fingers, capable of shredding through reinforced steel, anchor its massive frame.
It was watching me the whole time.
Muscles ripple beneath ashen, scarred flesh, coiled tight beneath its leathery hide. Even the long hairs across its back, when suspended in stillness, mimicked stalactites blending it seamlessly into the cave’s canopy.
It moves.
The snarl it releases rattles my bones.
Its gaunt, skeletal face tilts downward, sunken feline-yellow eyes locking on to me with malicious intent. A mouth—too wide, too jagged—parts. Countless rows of needle-thin, yellowed teeth drip with saliva.
This is a Crepitus Vox, but this one is wrong. More advanced. Mutated.
I set my blade down, the threat of corrosion keeping me from sheathing it. Rolling my neck, I loosen the tension, letting the movement travel down to my shoulders, into my arms, and into my fingers.
The air crackles—a whoosh, then a hiss—as onyx and blue flames combust at my fingertips. Flooding the chamber with flickering light.
A chittering pulse fills the air.
It slams into my mind like a hammer. My mental shield shudders, rattling like an earthquake determined to bring the foundations down.
I grit my teeth. Hold strong.Focus.
Flames burst from my hands, a violent surge of blue and black. My arms chase the creature’s form as it vaults from wall to wall.
It responds instantly. The pulsations increase in frequency, vibrating through the cavern like a war drum. My bones rattle, my arms, my legs going numb.
I persevere. Even mutated, advanced, I can take down a Crep. I’ve faced worse. Fought worse, and in greater numbers.
I step forward, tracking its movements, and my boot knocks something.
The girl’s body.
A wave of cold crashes over me.
No. Something is wrong.
A jagged tear rips through my mental shield. The pulsations flood in, wave after wave. Raw alien pressure slams into my skull and I feel as though it’s splitting.
Hunger, so hungry.The thought floods repeatedly to me making my stomach cramp and my mouth salivate. My flames flicker, then extinguish.
I gasp, clutching my head as the world tilts, spins, and distorts. The force digs deeper, wreaking havoc in my mind.
“Dost thou hunger?”
The voice hisses into my mind, a deep and unnatural baritone that slithers through my thoughts like oil. The shock of hearing it—understanding it—nearly drowns out the pain.
Nearly.
Agony slams into my bones. The pressure feels like it cracks my skull, and all at once the pain of a thousand needles pushesthrough my mind like a pin cushion. My body locks up. Every muscle stiffens, a slow, creeping paralysis spreading through my limbs. My knees buckle. I drop, hitting the ground hard.
“Sweet lamb.”
Its voice coils around me, suffocating me, tightening my muscles. The words are mocking, indulgent, as if it’s savoring its meal before taking the first bite.
This…
This is worse than I thought.
