A straight shot down into the skull. He
picked his mark.
Aedion’s nod was the only signal before
his arrow flew.
Black blood was still steaming in the snow
when the fighting stopped.
It had lasted only a few minutes. Just a
few, after Ren and Aedion’s arrows found
their targets and Lysandra had leaped from
her perch to shred three others. And rip the
muscles from the calves of the sixth and sole
surviving member of the company.
The demon moaned as Aedion stalked
toward him, the snow at the man’s feet now
jet-black, his legs in ribbons. Like scraps of a
banner in the wind.
Lysandra sat near his head, her maw
stained ebony and her green eyes fixed on the
man’s pale face. Needle-sharp claws gleamed