The air rippled behind him— just before the crack of stone shattered through Limbo's silence.
Zephyr dove sideways.
WHAM!
A blur of movement— a massive club, studded with jagged, rust-colored spikes— slammed into the ridge where he'd been a moment ago. The force of the impact tore through the rock like paper, sending shrapnel flying as Zephyr was launched, his body flung through the air like a broken arrow.
He hit the ground hard, tumbling across uneven terrain. His ribs flared with pain. Something cracked.
But he didn't stop, he couldn't stop.
He sprang up, coughing, barely registering the taste of blood in his mouth. The creature landed with a sickening thud, its webbed feet cracking the stone again.
The thing was grinning— always grinning.
Now it held the spiked club in both hands, dragging it along the ground with a sharp metallic scrape. Sparks burst from the tips of the spikes. It didn't rush this time.
It was playing with him.
