The massive figure finished emerging from the glyph, its grotesque form crackling with eldritch energy.
As its clawed limbs scraped across the bone-laden earth, it released a piercing, distorted scream that fractured the silence—a cry so unnatural it sent tremors through the very fabric of the aether.
The scream wasn't merely sound. It was felt—in the lungs, in the bones, in the soul.
Seren's crimson eyes flicked toward the boy beside her, her breath shallow from fatigue and frost. Her lips quivered—half with restrained anger, half with grim amusement.
"You ran," she said coldly, her voice tight with both accusation and relief. "Why are you here now?"
Einar rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I mean… I needed a breather. I did fight a lot before all this."
