Broken glass crunched beneath his boots as Cyrus staggered forward, crimson blood dripping from his shredded palm onto white tile.
His chest heaved—half from exertion, half from the raw, animal panic clawing through his ribs.
Behind him, Kane lay motionless on bloodstained sheets.
Cyrus braced himself against the twisted window frame, obsidian scales catching moonlight as he scanned the dark beach below.
The raven perched on volcanic rock twenty yards out, metal talons clicking rhythmically against stone.
Its chassis still glowed faintly where the Roaring Shard had been absorbed, circuitry pulsing beneath synthetic plating.
Beyond the construct stood a silhouette.
Tall. Human-shaped. Backlit by silver moonlight that turned him into something carved from shadow and menace.
A man in a long coat, hands buried casually in his pockets as though he'd simply stopped by for a pleasant evening stroll.
Watching the villa.
Watching him.
Cyrus froze.
