Matt dropped back, his chest laboring, his breathing in short, choppy gasps, his eyes wide and wet with rage. His fingers tensed into trembling fists, the air about him shimmering with heat, the earth beneath him cracking, the acrid tang of charred flesh and seared soil in his lungs.
"No," he gasped, his voice a low, raspy growl, his breath stuck in his throat, his mind a muddled, knotted mix of anger and sorrow. "Not this time. Not again."
The fire erupted from his hands, whirling up, curling across the air around him, the heat searing his skin, the blackness closing in on him, the shadows stretching. His head snapped back, his mouth open in a raw, animal scream, his body convulsing, the fire nibbling at his skin, the earth beneath him shaking.
A colossal, skull-like fire burst behind him, its empty eyes afire, its mouth agape, its broken, distorted teeth running with flowing fire. It bellowed, its scream a distorted, damned scream, the air shuddering with the fury of its wrath, the shadows retreating, the night quailing.
The beasts about him screamed, their splintered, twisted bodies unfolding in the flames, boiling in their flesh, twisting in their limbs, their eyes staring and wet with terror. The walls of the moldy, ancient house creaked and smoked, the wooden beams splintering, the paint blistering, the boards groaning.
Lei screamed, twisting, her skin turning black, her breathing shallow, harsh gasps, her eyes open wide and wet with terror, her fingers scrabbling the air, her mind a tangle of pain and fear.
"Matt!" she retched, her own voice raw and jagged, her own breathing clogged up in her own throat, her own hands releasing the smashed banister as fire bit her flesh, her brain a seared, lashing chaos of pain and fright.
He felt the heat radiating from his hands, flames licking up the sleeves of his clothes, the air humming with the intensity of his fury, his brain an untangled, mangled ball of anger and pain.
"No!" he thundered, his voice a raw, frayed thing, his breath coming in jerky, short gasps, his mind a twisted, confused knot of rage and anguish. He tugged at his arms, the flames rising, the air shuddering with the fury of his rage, the shadows retreating, the dark shuddering.
The monsters shrieked, their mangled, knotted forms contorting and writhing in flames, their skin bubbling, their limbs convulsing, their eyes large and wet with terror. They contorted, their forms contorting and splintering, their bones snapping, their flesh smelting, the air heavy with the odor of burned flesh.
And then, with a crunching, splintering crack of bone, the floor beneath Lei collapsed, the wood shattering, the air ringing with the shock of the blow, her body twisting, her breath caught in her throat, her mind a knotted, tangled mass of pain and terror.
She fell, her body contorting, her limbs spasmodically thrashing, her breath escaping her lungs, her eyes wide and streaming with fear, her mind a twisted, tangled web of pain and despair. She struck the ground below, her bones snapping, her flesh searing, her breath escaping her lungs, her mind a twisted, tangled web of agony and terror.
"No…" Matt panted, his voice a harsh, splintered whisper, his breathing short, shallow gasps, his mind a wild, tangled mixture of rage and sorrow. He staggered to the lip of the smoldering, splintered pit, his breathing in harsh, ragged gasps, his eyes wide and wet, his heart a cold, hollow beat in his chest.
"Lei…," he struggled to say, his voice a raw, splintered sound, his breath fighting for life in his throat, his head a jumble of rage and sorrow.
Back to the Creation World. Gabriel's eyelids snapped open, breathing in shallow, gasping gasps, his body throbbing, his mind twisted, tangled threads of agony and terror. He lay on the cold, smooth stone, inhaling the pungent, floral perfume of fresh flowers, hearing the far-off, melodic trilling of birds echoing in his ears.
"Welcome back," Neah gasped, her voice a soft, shuddering thing, her breath lodged in her throat, her eyes wide and watery with terror. She bent over him, her shaking hands, her breath escaping from her body, her heart a wild, loose drumbeat in her chest.
"What… what happened?" Gabriel panted, his voice a jagged, splintered thing, his breath snagging in his throat, his mind a knotted, tangled web of pain and bewilderment.
"You fainted," Carl muttered, his voice low, gravelly, his breath issuing from his chest, his eyes wide and streaming with anxiety. He sat on the edge of a chair in front of the mirror, his hands shaking, his breathing in hard, gasping gusts, his head full of a mangled, knotted tangle of fear and urgency.
"Where… where are we?" Gabriel whispered, his voice a raw, broken thing, his breath catching in his throat, his mind a twisted, tangled mess of fear and confusion.
"The castle," Neah whispered, her voice a soft, trembling thing, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes wide and wet with worry. "You're safe now."
Gabriel relaxed, his body sagging, his breath escaping his lungs, his heart a mad, uncontrolled drumbeat in his chest. He gazed up, his eyes wide and tearful, his gasps of air in short, rasping inhalations, his mind a tangled, twisted knot of fear and confusion.
The throne room was spacious and resonant, walls adorned with rich, velvet curtains of claret as dark as claret, loaded with the mixed aroma of incense and new flowers. King Marcus lay on his throne, back straight, hands resting on the tastefully decorated armrests, eyes cold and unflinching, jaw set in stubborn line.
Carl, Neah, and Gabriel stood before him, heads bowed, breath exhaling from their bodies, hearts untamed, wild rhythms in their chests.
"What's going on in my kingdom?" the king's voice growled, icy and brutal, his eyes slanting, his fists tightening on the armrests. "Your honor," Gabriel panted, his own voice a rasping, broken thing, his breath caught in his throat, his mind a tangled, gnarled knot of fear and desperation. "It's the goblins. They're attacking."
The king's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, his breath escaping from his lungs in short, shallow gasps, his mind a twisted, tangled mass of anger and fear.
"Then we prepare," he snarled, his voice a low, gravelly one, his breath escaping from his lungs, his mind a twisted, tangled mass of purpose and anger. "The Samana… they come. We need to be prepared."