The funeral ceremony halted in an instant.
The wails, the prayers, the pounding of drums—everything was swallowed by a monstrous shriek as a giant centipede with a dragon's head burst from the shadows. Its jaws lined with jagged, needle-sharp teeth snapped forward—
CRUNCH.
The two guards' heads vanished between those fangs before anyone could even scream. Blood sprayed like ink on the ground.
Gasps turned into chaos.
Ren, Evie, and Ragnar reacted faster than instinct—light flared beneath their feet as Ren teleported away, Evie dissolved into butterflies, and Ragnar vanished in a blink. All three reappeared hidden among tents and rocks, hearts pounding as the creature thrashed closer.
The Night Thing wasn't rampaging randomly.
It was hunting them.
Ren's skin crawled as the beast's many eyes darted around the camp like lanterns searching for secrets. It was enraged. Terrified. Cornered. And it knew—if Ren and his party survived tonight—its fate was sealed.
