Chapter 44
Under the luminescent moon, the Vados plains grew unnaturally silent.
The ceaseless night symphony—the distant howls of apex predators, the frantic scrabble of prey fleeing through tall grass, the low rumble of territorial roars echoing from hidden valleys—had all fallen away at once. It was as though the land itself recognized something ancient and dangerous had awakened in its heart and decided, collectively, to hold its breath.
The moon hung enormous and low, a perfect silver disc that painted the world in cold, liquid light. Shadows stretched impossibly long; every blade of grass gleamed with a metallic edge, and the air itself seemed thinner, heavier, charged with anticipation.
Before Dax knelt a single dark-green creature.
It was similar in silhouette to the goblins he had torn apart earlier green skin, pointed ears, clawed fingers—but the resemblance ended there.
