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Chapter 40 - Final Phase

"Now," Harrion purred, eyes glittering with blood-hungry light, "the real fun begins."

His grin split wider, teeth glinting like knives, while the markings across his skin pulsed with a rhythm that felt wrong — predatory.

The barbed gears of his commachical rattled restlessly, eager to shred more flesh.

Eamond tightened his grip on his sword, forcing down the tremor in his battered arms. Beside him, Lysandra stepped forward, staff blazing with a corona of pure arcane light, threads of runes snaking up her sleeves like living veins.

Vale planted his boots, shoulders squared, jaw locked in grim determination, ready to meet whatever horror came.

Every hair on Eamond's neck stood on end. Harrion's grin was too wide, his pupils blown wide with anticipation, those monstrous red markings pulsing in time with a heartbeat that seemed to ripple through the entire hall.

He's going all out.

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