The two monsters—one forged of fragile, battered human flesh, the other a nightmare of green scales and ghostly smoke—clashed beneath the crushing weight of the Grey Sea.
They traded brutal blows like dueling gods, each movement a collision of fury and survival.
Above them, high within the spiraling cylinder of roaring wind and fire, Llarm hovered, staring downward with wide, astonished eyes.
"I've never seen him fight like this," Llarm thought, heart pounding. "He's like a wild beast."
He had entered the wind tunnel minutes earlier, barely maintaining flight in its turbulent spiral. Now he floated near the top, the walls of churning air groaning around him, peering down into the abyss where Lucy battled the leviathan alone. Every instinct screamed at him to fly down and help. But he didn't. Couldn't.
If I go in there now, I'll die. Worse, he'd be a distraction or a liability. Lucy's only shot was doing this alone.
