The forest was on fire.
Damien could smell it before he saw it — the thick, bitter tang of burnt earth and crushed mana herbs.
Aquila's wings sliced through the rising smoke as they sped toward the Verdant Verge, following the monstrous pulse of energy that was flaring through the night sky like a beacon of madness.
The pillar of dark essence towered above the horizon, twisting like a storm, swallowing the moonlight. Every instinct in him screamed run away, but Damien leaned forward instead, whispering to the griffin.
"Faster."
Aquila screeched, obeying. Wind tore at Damien's coat, and the forest below blurred into streaks of shadow and fire. The pressure grew heavier with each passing second — essence so thick it felt like gravity itself had changed.
Then he spotted general Ivaan.
