This isn’t strategy. It’s instinct. Protect. Destroy.
The smoke thins just enough for me to see them collide . . . or try to. Becks barrels straight through the demon’s form, his claws slicing through mist and smoke as if the thing is barely there. The demon’s body ripples and distorts, momentarily unraveling before reforming a few feet away.
My stomach drops.
Becks wheels around and strikes again, jaws snapping shut on nothing. His claws rake through darkness, fire pouring from his mouth in a blistering torrent that lights the clearing like day.
The flames pass through the demon, warping its shape, shredding it into smoke, but it doesn’t scream.
It laughs. An insidious noise that coils through the forest.
And then it strikes back.
A mass of dark smoke hardens mid-swing and slams into Becks’ side with brutal force. His roar splits the night as he stumbles, scales sparking where the blow lands. Another tendril lashes out, raking across his chest and carving deep gouges into his teal scales.
I stare in horror.
It can hurt him, but Becks can’t hurt it back.
The demon flickers again, its form briefly unraveling, then snapping back together as if it’s being held together by sheer will.
Becks charges once more, slamming into it, trying to pin something that won’t stay solid. Every time he strikes, the demon dissipates—smoke, mist, nothing—and every time it retaliates, its blows land with terrifying precision.
Understanding hits me like a punch to the chest.
It doesn’t have a body yet.
It hasn’t killed me.
This isn’t its final form.
“Becks!” I scream, my magic surging in answer.
I thrust my hands forward, magenta flames bursting from my palms and tearing into the demon’s side. The flames land, and the darkness recoils, its form distorting violently, scattering like vapor in a strong wind.
For a heartbeat, it almost looks hurt.
Then its attention snaps to me.
Darkness detonates outward. I’m lifted off my feet and hurled aside, my scream ripped away as I slam into the ground hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
Pain explodes through me as I skid to a stop, the world spinning.
Becks roars.
The demon reforms instantly, its fury palpable now. Dark smoke surges, not striking this time, but swarming, forming black ropes that coil around Becks’ legs, his torso, his injured wing, dragging him down. He fights it, claws tearing through the black substance, fire spilling uselessly through smoke, but the tendrils just keep coming, binding him like chains.
Becks crashes to the ground, roaring, thrashing, helpless as the darkness tightens.
The demon looms over him, its laughter deep and satisfied.
Then it turns.
Toward me.
I scramble backward, terror freezing my limbs as its eyeless face tilts, that ruined mouth stretching wider.
Becks roars again, the sound raw with both fury and fear.
