Fear finally crept into Erend's heart.
It was not the fear of pain or death, but the sharp and choking dread that came from watching Eccar and Aesa fall one after the other.
His mind screamed with worry as their broken bodies vanished below the clouds. His instincts pulled at him to follow, to catch them, and make sure they were still alive.
But there was no time for it.
Zerathul arrived before him in a violent blur, the necrotic sword already descending.
Erend barely moved aside as the blade passed where his neck had been, the air itself blackening and screaming in its wake.
The follow-up strike came instantly, then another, then another, each of those swings aimed to kill.
But Erend roared and met the assault head-on, claws flashing as he struck back, sparks exploding as his claws and scales met corrupted power.
Lightning surged from his body in violent bursts, cracking outward in wild arcs that slammed into Zerathul's torso.
