Clutching the deep, jagged slash across his ruined arm, Solarynth winced from the burning pain, but his eyes locked on the towering beast, burning with a dangerous, unfamiliar fire. He stumbled back, forcing his shaking legs to push him to his feet. Looking the minotaur dead in the eyes, his veins burned with the unfamiliar, foreign sensation of raw, fiery anger.
The minotaur shook its massive head, sending up a thick plume of steam into the air, lowering into a crouch, and surging forward with powerful bursts of speed, rushing straight at him.
Solarynth let go of his right mangled arm and his left hand curled into a tight, shaking fist as the ground trembled from the minotaur's advance.
"Come on you oversized beast." He hissed, watching the ground as he tracked the minotaur's movements. "Let's see how fast this shell can move."
As the minotaur charged at him, Solarynth moved to the right, avoiding the creature's goring attack. It crashed into the side of a building, smashing the stone pillar into rubble with the force of its charge.
"Missed." He muttered, a smirk gracing his lips as he rolled away from the battle. For nearly a minute, he used the terrain to keep himself from being cornered, throwing himself from one ruined structure to another, talking to himself in the process. He had to keep moving. He couldn't let it corner him. He had to use his surroundings.
He sidestepped a wild swinging attack, ducking behind a broken building and a minotaur's charge. He spotted a large, jagged boulder and heaved it with his remaining good arm, knocking the creature's knee out from under it. It stumbled and growled, sending an angry glare in his direction.
"Down you brute." He growled as the minotaur turned back toward him, its charge slowing it down. He caught his foot on something as he moved back and he dug it out with an angry curse. A broadsword, its tip broken off in a long forgotten battle lay there in the sand and he took up the weapon in his remaining hand. He met the minotaur's glare with a smirk.
"Let's see how much this steel can take." He said, taking a defensive stance with the weapon.
The minotaur growled ferociously toward Solarynth, charging forward and swinging its heavy battle axe in a violent arc that would split the young warrior in two.
Solarynth dove to the right, avoiding death but allowing the minotaur to follow through with an equally powerful stomp of its heavy hoof. He rolled desperately to the left and then the right, avoiding the beast's deadly blows which sent up great plumes of ash from the scorched earth.
As another heavy hoof slammed into the dirt beside his head, Solarynth saw his opening. As he rolled, he twisted his body sideways, his left hand pulling the broken broadsword from the ground by its ruined hilt and driving the jagged, snapping edge of its steel deep into the left leg of the charging beast.
The minotaur gave an ear-piercing, earth-rumbling screech of pain as it buckled under the sudden pain, staggering back in an attempt to pull the weapon free from its leg.
The minotaur took a step back, a growling noise coming from its maw, as it reached back with a massive hand, feeling around for the rusted, jagged blade sticking out of its thigh.
Solarynth was swaying on his feet, standing, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he blinked lazily, trying to focus his vision.
His right arm, the one that had taken the brunt of the attack, was bleeding, though it wasn't blood that ran down his forearm and dripped from his elbow; it was condensed starlight leaking out of a gash in his side, sapping him of his strength.
He could feel his eyesight failing him, the edges of his vision going dark, his knees threatening to buckle.
With a grunt of determination, he shook the feeling off, staggering to his feet.
He took a steadying breath, locking his gaze onto the wounded beast before him.
A wry smile touched his pale lips as he wiped at the sweat beading on his brow.
A strange feeling of power was surging through his veins, keeping him from feeling the pain in his arm, and keeping the darkness at bay; he knew not what this feeling was called, for mortals knew not this sensation, only that it filled him with energy, and a wild, frantic urge to continue the battle, to finish the beast before it could finish him.
It's called adrenaline...
With another steadying breath, he looked up at the towering monster before him, taking in the fresh wound on its leg, and sighed.
"Well... it seems that this form is quite persistent, after all..."
So he thought. But before Solarynth could so much as lunge forward, a sudden, crippling drain of energy swept through his limbs and he found himself falling flat on his back against the sand.
THUD!
He barely had time to look up before the minotaur wrenched the broken weapon from its leg, baring vicious teeth in a blood-flecked snarl as it loomed over him, eyes narrowed and muscles coiling as it prepared to stomp down on him once more.
The minotaur loomed over him, its massive, cloven foot raised high, poised to crush Solarynth's skull into jagged fragments. Solarynth could only stare upward, pinned by exhaustion as the shadow of his impending execution fell over him.
Before the blow could land, a sharp whistle of air split the wasteland from the opposite direction, cutting through the ash-choked wind.
The minotaur froze, its heavy foot hovering inches above Solarynth's face. The beast grunted, pulling back from the stomp as its head whipped around toward the source of the sound. The exact second it turned, a heavy combat spear lunged out of the haze, burying its iron head deep into the meat of the minotaur's shoulder with a sickening crunch.
"Got your attention, you oversized walking steak?" a rough, weathered voice echoed from the ridge above, slicing through the ringing in Solarynth's ears.
The minotaur shrieked, a raw, bubbling roar of rage as it clawed frantically at the shaft embedded in its flesh, stumbling hard against the dirt.
The man who had thrown the spear strode forward out of the ash and dust. Clad in heavy bronze armor which glared dull beneath the overcast sky, a vibrant red cape flew furiously behind him in the wasteland wind.
A... Spartan?
Solarynth's mind blinked in sluggish confusion as the warrior walked slowly into the clearing without any fear or hesitation.
He carried a round bronze shield strapped on one arm and a short sword at his side, his sharp unblinking glare being locked straight into the minotaur's furious eyes.
"Looks like you got my spear," the warrior called out, his voice cutting through the heavy air with steady mocking confidence. "Don't worry--I'll be taking it back. I might have to rip it out of you first, though."
Challenging the beast head-on, the Spartan braced as four more heavily armed warriors materialized out of the haze, falling swiftly into a tight disciplined phalanx formation with him at the center.
The lead Spartan did not even flinch as the minotaur raged and roared, it's giant hand clawing at the shaft of the spear that had embedded in to its shoulder. With a practiced ease the warrior removed his own heavy bronze shield, sliding his arm into the straps with a clatter of the metal.
"Hold the line!" the Spartan captain barked, his voice a deep rumbling from the back of his throat, rolling through the chamber.
Behind him the other four Spartans formed a solid phalanx, their own bronze shields coming together in a solid wall, the sun breaking through the ash filled sky to glint off the edges of their short, double edged swords.
They moved as a single entity, a disciplined unit, their movements a sharp contrast to the wild, desperate fight that had been put up not moments before by the lone figure in the center of the room.
Groaning, Solarynth lay on his back in the ashen dust, liquid starlight continuing to drip from the wound in his side, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the strange figures before him, trying desperately to reconcile the image of them with the understanding that yes, these really were ancient warriors, not some kind of interdimensional anomaly or alien spacecraft that had crashed in to the ruins.
The minotaur let out a deafening roar, it's massive claws raking furiously at the air where the spear had been embedded in its shoulder, now discarding it in favor of charging straight into the waiting phalanx, a rampaging bull of muscle and sinew.
Not that the captain was worried.
The Spartan captain stood his ground, not even moving as the beast bore down on him, his knee's digging in to the scorched earth, shield raised, a grim smile etched across his face.
"Let's show this one some manners, shall we?" he chuckled.
The Spartan captain by the name of Louis was a hard man to kill, having learned the brutal lessons of steel and fire upon numerous battlefields, leading a small band of Spartans into certain death dozens of times over in the hopes of carving a path to victory. He had the heart of a mountain and the mind of a tactician, but it was his sheer bullheaded fearlessness that made him the leader of the unit, pushing his men into the thick of the fight and encouraging them to reach their fullest potential, making them legends in their own right.
The minotaur rams into the phalanx like a collapsed cliffside.
The sound vibrates in the scorched earth, a sound of muscles, iron and bronze vibrating in the ashen air.
But the wall of shields does not move. Louis plants his feet in the dust and flexes his strong muscles, which swell his bronze cuirass as the minotaur's full weight drives into his section of the formation.
"Push!" he shouts, his voice barely rising above the din of the monstrous screeching.
The four Spartans throw their shoulders into the wall in unison, forcing the minotaur onto its backside with surprising ease.
Before it can recover, blades erupt from the Spartan formation, slashing at the behemoth's flanks, tearing great shreds of flesh from its ribs.
On his knees a few feet away, Solarynth gazes at the combatants, feeling his cosmic pride bruised and blistered.
These little men, with their muddy armor and bloodstained tunics, have just tossed aside his millennia-old haughtiness as if it were a pair of old rags.
They have no divine fire in their hearts, no astral power coursing through their veins, and yet they fight this interstellar nightmare with smiles on their bloodied faces. With a final effort, the minotaur throws its mighty arms back in a last-ditch attempt to break the phalanx.
Louis dives to the ground, avoiding the overhead strike, and launches himself up again with a short sword aimed at the minotaur's heart.
Louis drove his short sword towards the heart of the minotaur in an effort to pierce the beast.
His sword met the thick hide of the minotaur with a metallic ping as the hardened steel tip of his weapon snapped off against the creature's hide.
A growl emitted from the minotaur's chest as an unnatural fury hardened its skin to iron. It drew upon the well of power within, sending the whole of its considerable bulk hurtling into the bronze-hued wall with a force that sent the Spartans flying across the ashen ground, shields shattered, and formation broken by the sheer power of the impact.
Scattered over the ashen ground, the Spartans moaned and groaned as they pushed themselves up from the ground.
Captain Louis pushed himself up into a sitting position, brushing a wisp of dust from his bronze jaw. A wild grin spread across his face as he looked up and took in the sight of the towering monster before them.
"Well, I'll be damned...this creature's got some real heat!" laughed Louis, looking towards the sidelines. "Grace! Move your behind and save that kid!"
Standing on the sidelines was Grace, the medic and healing mage of their unit. While she had spent much of the skirmish laying magical chants upon the battlefield and boosting the morale of many, her hands glowed faintly as she prepared to empower a fresh group of warriors heading into battle.
"On it!" replied Grace.
Snatching up her leather bag of salves, bandages, and potions, the mage bolted towards the clearing where the still-bleeding starlight decorated the dirt.
Grace Valen was much more than an auxiliary. Everyone knew that: during the blood-soaked campaigns, she was not reluctant to go to the front and risk being pierced by an arrow or trampled by a horse to patch up wounded soldiers. Her bravery and chivalry inspired soldiers, and she fearlessly faced the enemy. Even during battles, she could be seen right in the thick of it, throwing healing spells and rushing to the aid of the wounded. And she would not leave any soldier alone at the mercy of the enemy unless there was not a single spell left in her arsenal to return them to life.
Crouching behind a rock, Grace took a moment to catch her breath and tightened the flap of her leather medical bag. Then she took off running toward the fallen comrade, scanning the horizon for the glowing dot of white starlight that marked his location.
Solarynth lay sprawled on the ashy ground, gasping as the iridescent starlight continued to gather ominously beneath him. In the haze of dying, he was aware of a shadow falling across him.
Grace knelt beside him, breathing evenly despite the chaos of the duel still going on several feet away. Her hands were firm as she lifted the injured, leaking limb away from his chest
Solarynth stiffened, panic blooming hotly in his belly as a stranger touched his damaged vessel.
Her grip was iron as she bent her head to his, eyes boring into his with an alien intensity.
"Hold still," said a human voice, firm but not unkind, and despite the cacophony of noise waging war in his skull, the sound of her voice rang clearly in his ears.
The words made little sense to the ancient star-being, but their meaning was clear enough in the feeling they sent racing through his veins. With a deft movement, she tore a strip of cloth from a bag slung over her shoulder and used it to press against his gash.
Pain lanced through is nerves, sharper, more vicious than the minotaur's battle-axe. Solarynth choked back a gasp as his back arched painfully off the ashy ground, his fingers snapping wide. A sudden flash of golden light erupted from his eyes.
Grace held his ruined arm against her chest as her palms flared to life with a strange luminescence. The light cascaded down, a pure, blinding white, and began slowly knitting the torn flesh. The hasty stitching of the combat leathers was binding the wound, but the frenzied loss of starlight was ebbing, slowing.
It was not a miracle, not by any means, but it would suffice. Though it would take far more than a few minutes, the steady pressure of her healing hands staunched the flow of his being, and helped to ease the crushing tiredness clawing at his limbs.
Solarynth's gaze fell on some point above his head, trying to focus despite the smog.
He felt unreal with his vastness, and she was so tiny and fragile comparing to the battle around them. Her body was not built to fight, it was built to die with a beautiful and proud death.
But her eyes did not show any trace of fear as she studied the fight with a determined look.
"You will be fine", she whispered to herself, hands working the magic that would save his life. Her voice was trembling, but her hands were not. "Just hold on."
Something unfamiliar stirred in the depths of his ancient soul as the warmth of light emanating from her hands wrapped around his body pulling him inside. Not a fear-induced worship, no, not even a devotion of lesser beings to their creator.
A strange and wonderful feeling of trust coursed through his veins, igniting the long-dormant parts of his soul that have not been used since the creation of the wasteland.
Solarynth's eyes were fixed on his mangled arm as he looked in wide-eyed astonishment. His pale flesh and ripped muscle was healing, mended by the light emanating from the mortal woman's spell. It was the first time he had ever seen anyone wield restoration magic over a celestial being.
"How are you doing that..?" muttered Solarynth in confusion.
Before Grace could respond, his cerulean eyes were fixed on the battlefield once more. It seemed the fallen Spartans had risen to their feet, brushing off the dust and dirt as if it were nothing.
Captain Louis was grinning with a cocky smirk as he pulled his shield on his left arm. His soldiers immediately formed a formation around him, standing in an idle stance with their weapons and waiting for his orders.
"This monster can really pack a punch," remarked Louis as he looked back at the still-standing fortress, where the battle between Solarynth and the colossus was still happening. "But can he take it when we bring more friends?"
They immediately fell into formation.
More reinforcements came into view. However, they weren't Spartans, but rather VIKINGS.
Dressed in furs and wielding axes with iron picks on top, the warriors charged down the hill with cries of battle. In contrast to the Spartans, who were disciplined and fought with calculated techniques, the Vikings charged forward recklessly and with wild frenzy.
At the front of the Viking formation, a chieftain bellowed loudly in the commotion. "Well, looks like captain Louis is already have all the fun! Alright men, I better not see any cowards in this charge!"
They crashed into the fray, faster than the Spartans ever could have, their movements fueled by the strong magic that still coursed through their veins in the spell that Grace cast before she went to save Solarynth in the dirt.
The five Vikings, one chief, and four massive warriors with axes in their hands, stormed the fray like a wave of blood and steel.
Made furious by a temporary enchantment cast by Grace, their muscles burned with magical energy. Their movements were impossibly fast, leaving wisps of ash where they had just been.
The chieftain roared and leapt from a chunk of debris and planted his double-bladed war axe into the beast's side, driving it into the ground. The minotaur stumbled back, surprised by the force of the attack, letting out a rumbling growl as the four Vikings surrounded the unfortunate creature and attacked its flanks, using their double axes to slice at the tough hide and muscles.
It was a thing of beauty to behold, two different types of warriors attacking a giant beast, carving huge chunks of flesh and muscle from the poor creature, spilling gallons of blood that soaked the ground.
For all their numerical advantage, iron discipline, and the very magic in their veins, the allied warriors greatly underestimated the resilience of the beast they fought.
The minotaur shrugged off their attacks, adapting to their blows, and retaliating in kind. Dark ichor spurted from the gaps in its thick hide, while the muscles beneath jumped and twitched unnaturally. The beast was growing stronger, fueled by some feral fury that seemed to surge through its veins with every passing moment.
It happened so fast that it took a moment for the warriors to realize the battle was already over.
The minotaur simply sidestepped the heavy cleaving strike of the axe from the leader of the Vikings, who had jumped to finish it off. In a single motion, the minotaur caught the axe in its bare hands and wrenched it out of the surprised leader's grip. It took him a fraction of a second too long to pull his weapon back, and in that moment, the beast had already grabbed him by the middle section of his torso.
A wet, sickening sound of breaking bones and rending muscle accompanied the minotaur's claws as it dragged its victim close. And his heart gave a sickening lurch as he realized it was coming out of his own chest. The beast had literally squeezed the life out of him.
A hushed silence, as of the whole world holding its breath, greeted the minotaur as it tossed the motionless body of the leader to the ground like a discarded rag.
"Ragnar!" One of the warriors shouted in alarm.
The rest of their band, the four soldiers that survived the initial charge, were just recovering from their shock when the minotaur turned its blazing eyes on them. It moved so fast that it was a blur, even before any of them could react. With a single backhanded swipe of its horns, it sent a Spartan soldier flying, his ribs caving in on themselves, his bronze cuirass and heart spilling on the ashen ground.
Another Viking was about to bring his axe down on the minotaur's side, when its jaws snapped shut on the poor man's forearm, tearing it clean off in a shower of blood. The magic in their veins ran cold as the beast tossed the useless limb on the ground.
The wasteland around them seemed to run red with blood as the minotaur loomed over the carnage it had wrought, its massive frame heaving and gasping.
The air of the wasteland was torn apart by the bloodcurdling scream that echoed from the Viking soldier who'd sunk to his knees, ash clinging to the shredded, blood-soaked hole where his shoulder had been. Arteries of blood spurt from the wound in steady rhythmic pulses, darkening the dust on the floor to blackened goo. He opened his mouth to release a frightened bloodcurdling wail, which came forth as a wet gargle before he fainted. A few feet away from the fallen comrade, his detached arm twitched feebly in the dirt, clawing uselessly at the shaft of a magical axe, the magic long since faded away.
Captain Louis roared furiously as he and his men formed up to finish off the wounded but the minotaur charge only loomed over the fallen Viking, letting loose a foul-smelling stream of corrupted steam.
Lying on his back on the ash, Solarynth took in the scene. Past the ringing in his ears, each wet crunching, each agonizing screech, and each spray of hot blood made their way to him. Each and every gory detail of the slaughter of the Vikings, the butchering of the Spartan's line, and the careless tossing aside of the bodies of those who had bravely run into the fire to save him had been seared into his consciousness as if imprinted upon his very soul.
Grace's hands hovered over his arm, her white magic finishing up the intricate job it was doing on his arm. But the horror of what he was seeing had turned the look in her eyes from one of focused determination to one of complete and utter fright.
"No don't try to help them!" Grace cried out, her voice quivering as she frantically gripped his shirt. "You'll get yourself killed!"
Solarynth paid her no heed.
With a slow motion, the hero flexed his fully-healed arm, the feel of the reinforced structure of his vessel still fresh in his mind despite the heavy weight of extreme tiredness that the drain of his energy left in him.
His eyes widened as an unbearable weight of guilt pressed down on him.
It wasn't that they were silly fools who had gotten what they deserved. It was only him that they were dying for. Only him
He stood up on his own two feet, his piercing gaze fixed on the monstrous abomination that was butchering his soldiers.
Even in the face of certain death, Captain Louis stood his ground, looking the towering minotaur in its dark, pupil-less eyes. His bronze-plated shield was broken, and the handle of his short sword was only a piece of broken steel that had broken against the creature's hide, but he had a death-grip on the broken hilt. Around him were his soldiers, all of them beaten, bloody, and exhausted, all of them slumped against the dusty ground, their armor broken, their breathing ragged.
"Captain... please, I don't want to see you die," said one of the younger Spartan soldier, his voice shaky.
Louis gave him a resolute look, a fierce look of unbreakable spirit.
"No. I am not going to die," said Louis, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "A Spartan does not speak of death when there is a battle to be fought. Stand firm. Keep your shield up. If the gods wish to take me, they will have to come and claim me themselves."
He gave the broken piece of metal a white-knuckled grip.
"So long as you can stand, fight. So long as you can breathe, fight. And when your body wants you to stop,"
Louis slowly took a step forward, placing the bulk of his battered being between the monster and the soldier that stood behind him.
"Tell it no."
He let out a great bellow that resonated throughout the entire field, shaking the dust from the air.
"We are Spartans! We do not surrender when the enemy has the upper hand! We do not back down when the enemy is stronger! We stand! We fight! And we do not give these monsters a single step of our ground!"
Louis raised the broken piece of steel at the minotaur, his eyes ablaze with fury.
"We're not giving up. We're saving the kid."
Solarynth stood, transfixed amidst the ash and smoke, Louis' words ringing in his head.
For his sake.
In his long, unfathomable life, the celestial had seen plenty of things. But none of it compared to this. Not even close. This simple, bloodied captain was willingly standing in the path of a beast twice his size with nothing but a broken sword for a weapon just to protect a stranger he'd only met a minute before, just because he wanted to save him.
Without him,
he thought, the feeling of deep, abysmal loss already crawling into his heart. A strange feeling of uncharacteristic warmth and understanding bloomed in his chest, overpowering the drain of his energy and the dull, aching pain in his vessel.
A whole new world of feelings opened up inside of him, burying the cynicism deep within his heart.
He was not going to let them die for him
The memory of Aditi's gentle voice rang inside of his head, cutting through the haze of the battlefield.
Magic is not a power simply obtained and used by will alone.
It is a force that must first be unbound, understood, learned, and only then defeated.
Solarynth blinked, an expression of uncharacteristic confusion flickering across his face. The sudden wave of grief that welled up inside of him was almost too much to handle.
It all didn't make sense!
His eyes swept over the field of carnage. They were not gods, not even celestial. They were simple, ordinary men who had the misfortune of crossing paths with the titan and willingly marching into the fire to defend a strange young man who could not even defend himself. The realization nearly broke him.
A sharp pain gripped his chest, and his heart clenched painfully inside of him. His breathing came faster, more shallow.
Why?
Why am I so weak? They gave their lives to save me, but I am as good as dead if I cannot save them!
Grief, fear, guilt, all of it mixed into one big jumble of confusing sensations he couldn't put a name to. He was so angry, so furious at himself, but it only led to an even greater wave of helplessness, and the feeling of helplessness only led to more self-loathing. It was an endless cycle of emotions that threatened to crush him under their sheer weight.
But through the haze of emotions, a single realization broke through. The feeling of despair was quickly losing ground to something else - something dark, angry, and all-consuming.
It started in his chest, then quickly spread to his limbs, setting every nerve on fire. It was the feeling of needing to avenge the deaths of those who had died because of his failure, the feeling of burning hatred towards the abomination that stood on the battlefield, tearing the minotaur limb from limb with nary a care. But the sensation of vengeance was quickly beaten back by the feeling of utter hopelessness that told him that he could not do anything to change what had already happened.
Solarynth was torn between the feeling of burning rage and the sensation of helplessness and despair, his heart waging a losing battle against his conscience.
The weight of the dead, the blood seeping into the ash, and Captain Louis's unwavering defiance all crashed down on Solarynth until something inside him gave way.
Aditi's lesson to him, that Magic is not a power simply gained and wielded by will alone but instead a force which must be first unchained...-not as a cold intellectual concept but as an undeniable truth. He could not command this magic in a manner of cool detachment. The power of his guilt, of grief and a furious, blazing rage fused with the raw starlight leaking from his side. It built to a boiling point, and the celestial wall shattered.
Space seems to stutter.
There was no preamble, no preparation. In less than a millisecond, the ambient magic in his ship shifted entirely to motion. The air behind him cracked like thunderclap as the resistance between him and this world simply ceased to be.
My body moved before I could think... and I could not stop it.
To anything observing, Solarynth did not run, he ceased to be in one place and appeared as a flashing, jagged streak of white-gold light in another, slicing the ash-covered clearing in two in a deadly blur of motion.
The strain was immediate and crippling, his muscles screaming and tearing at his sinews and veins bursting under the G-force of the acceleration, along with a wave of violent, blinding dizziness. He had no control over the movement, flying through the air in a straight, fast as a falling star path toward the towering minotaur whose massive, cloven-hoofed foot had come dangerously near to planting Captain Louis's skull.
Before the beast's foot could finish its arc, the streak of light slammed straight into the beast's side with the force of a falling meteor, a wild rush of uncontrolled magic hurling them both across the broken earth.
The kinetic energy of his out-of-control movement hurled his very being into a projectile.
Before the minotaur's heavy foot had crushed Captain Louis's skull, Solarynth had materialized from the streak of white-gold light right next to the massive creature. There was no room for a carefully aimed strike, no time for thought, only the brutal transformation of his raw cosmic magic into sheer motion.
He hurtled past, and his leg shot out in a desperate, last effort kick.
The force of the impact defied physics, because the resistance between his being and this world had vanished, and whatever speed he had carried had the force of a collapsing star behind it.
Crack!
The sound echoed through the wasteland like a thunderclap that shook the bones in the monster's massive, armored ribcage, sending it folding inward in on impact, smashing thick bones and splitting the hardened hide into shards of the thick ash in less than a second. The enormous creature was ripped off its feet by the sheer, overpowering force of the blow.
It flew sideways, uprooted a stone pillar and broke through the clouds of thick ash before landing, the huge body coming to a stop.
For a heartbeat, the whole battlefield fell into stunned silence.
Then the momentum of the movement took over, and Solarynth flew off-course, skidding across the scorched earth before finally collapsing. His muscles screamed in agony, his skin bleeding freely and starlight pouring from the cracks in his vessel, a wave of severe dizziness washing over him as he hit the dirt.
He had won, but his body had paid a heavy price for the speed.
The giant beast lay broken and lifeless in the rubble. His vengeance was taken.
Gradually, his eyes had closed over to the distant figure of Louis.