The world moved in slow motion. A nightmare of blood and ash.
Eric's head lay at Dante's feet. Eyes open. Forever open. Staring at nothing.
Six figures stood over the corpse. Their smiles wide. Manic. Utterly wrong.
Vultures. Arrived at the end of a great war to feast on the victors.
The leader stepped forward. Tall. Handsome. Cruel intelligent eyes and a razor-blade smile.
His gaze swept over their broken forms. Appreciating. Savoring.
His five teammates fanned out behind him. Fluid. Practiced. Predatory.
They walked with the casual arrogance of those who had never known defeat.
One of them, a wiry boy with dark vines tattooed up his arms, stepped directly on Jin's outstretched hand.
CRUNCH.
The sound of bone breaking.
Jin didn't even scream. Too exhausted. Too broken.
They moved toward Lana. Still on the ground. Body covered in poisonous gashes.
She pushed herself to her knees. Gripped her staff. Her wild energy gone. Replaced by cold, familiar hatred.
