Adam shivered, not because of the cold encroaching on the cave's walls, nor because of the campfire that crackled with a sickly blue hue. No... he had sensed it crash on him like a tidal wave of frost and hate before it influenced his surroundings—a life force that dwarfed anything he had ever felt, putting to shame Adras' demonic puppet. Even five of them could hardly compare to the monster that had come for him.
Dread gripped his heart, whispering words of inescapable doom—that resistance itself was futile, and fleeing, a fool's errand.
And when he saw her behind Yann, the dread only intensified.
Pale blue eyes brimming with unconcealed hostility locked onto him. Locks of hair twisted mid-air like hissing serpents, but he knew they merely floated because of her energy.
Hers was a face that should have been beautiful beyond measure—like the immortal fairy from Misha's bedtime stories—if not for the grimace twisting her features and the frozen lotus tattooed on her brow.
