Damon was having a terrible day.
He had no idea how many monsters he had killed so far, but it was getting annoying. Worse still, he could tell he was slowly losing his mind, which shouldn't even have been possible since he possessed the Crown of Lysithara, an artifact that prevented its wearer from going mad.
Which meant whatever was causing his bloodlust was far more insidious than a mere mental hex.
Many times more sinister.
He wiped the blood from his hands with the back of his wrist and stared into the distance.
He had sensed Ric activate one of the magical devices he had given him, the one containing the black flames born from his Ashborn skill.
Without another thought, Damon spread his wings.
With a powerful flap, he shot into the sky, soaring toward that direction. Across the Anarchy Mountains, countless shadow drones shifted at once, silently changing course as they converged toward the same destination.
Then...
A sudden chill crawled across his skin.
