Book One – Chapter 6

The Vicha remained an indifferent force of annihilation. It persisted to consume and move the behemoth along its unswerving path, while Yves bore the brunt of the explosions. He was hit by searing heat blasts that reverberated into the crater, a sharp contrast to the biting cold of the ice rain. Gasping for breath, he steadied his footing, feeling the unsettling consequences of rapidly depleting and replenishing his energy reserves.

In a matter of seconds, he rushed to draw in all available energy from his surroundings, exhausted the first of his two crystal rings, and conjured the next disc. Relentlessly, Yves attacked to reduce the behemoth further, hurling disc after disc and countless explosive projectiles to sever every unearthed appendage not yet ensnared by the Vicha’s encroaching web of veins.

What remained was a looming mountain of foul, viscous mass, spilling onto the world like rotten ink, its veins stretching out, spreading, seeking, gaining control over its new form, dragging itself towards Yves, accelerating, a curse tarnishing the stars and poisoning the air with a malevolence so dense that it paralysed and suffocated —

Breathe.