Ben's grin faded the moment he felt it.
Something was wrong.
CRACKLE.
His body moved on instinct.
He swung the pickaxe in a low, sweeping arc.
Purplish lightning exploded from his own shadow.
"What?" he muttered, his eyes narrowing.
From the darkness, serpentine figures rose.
They were shimmering specters made of lightning and shadow.
Ben jumped just as the first one slammed into the ground where he had stood.
The impact left a crater of scorched stone.
He flipped in mid-air and twisted as another came up behind him.
His pickaxe swung wide and cleaved through the phantom in one clean motion.
More rose.
A dozen shapes leapt from the pool of his shadow.
Lightning tethered them together in arcs that crackled like spiderwebs across the ground.
Ben landed in a crouch, his gaze sharp.
He dashed forward, slipping between two charging specters.
His pickaxe glowed faintly.
One swung.
He ducked.
Another lashed out.
