Pharai
The silence of the tomb died in a roar that shattered stone.
Suetekh moved first. He was not a man running; he was a catastrophe taking physical form. The dark air around him split with a deafening crack, red lightning sparking from his knuckles and trailing behind him in jagged, blinding threads. The stench of ozone slammed into my nose, mixing with the foul, hot stench of the bubbling pool below.
Beside him, Lobdell vanished.
Where the British professor had stood, an eight-foot pillar of pure shadow and moonlight erupted. Anubis was no longer bound by denim or human pretense; his jackal form was a living eclipse, claws forged from obsidian, grey eyes glowing with amber divine fire that cut through the gloom.
