Prelude

T

his was the end. The Beast emerged from the cave — I had been right about the ceaseless red eyes, for his were blood-red. Twenty feet tall he stood, if it were a foot, bristling with muscles and fangs and dark, matted hair. Hissing, his drool fell from his gaping mouth and withered what grass it touched. Behind me I could hear the fierce sounds of the still-raging battle. The whirling plumes of smoke above me signified that either our town was afire, or their ships were. Either way, the battle below was neither won nor lost. Aeden was fighting, rallying the troops; he was still alive, at least… maybe. A lot of emotion played on that word. Maybe.

The Beast emerged and stood over me. I drew my sword, once bright and glinty in the sunlight. I held its dull steel in a warrior’s salute, soliciting a bellow and a snarl. This would be the fight I had trained for, looked forward to, crossed oceans, climbed mountains, left Rachel… This could be the last fight.

I grinned a grim invitation to my opponent. “After you.”