The creature rushed in for the kill, twisting as it moved in an effort to gain momentum.
Hill barely dodged, the venomous stinger smashing into stone like a whip where he'd stood a heartbeat before.
Goodness, that was quick! I didn't even—
It had already spun to face him, mandibles snapping inches from his nose.
Hill leaned backward and slammed his palm under the creature's jaw. Frigid power rushed through his veins as the Frost Sentinel's blessing activated on queue.
As ice shards splintered outward, a flash of pale blue light erupted at the impact zone. The beast screeched, thrashing its head to dislodge the frozen crystals.
Sprawled on the ground, Hill scrambled back to his feet. He raised his fists into a boxing stance. A smile crept across his face.
He'd used his blessing on instinct—without relying on the benevolent Phoebe's assistance!
The battle wasn't over, though. The monster scraped away at the ice using one of its six massive legs and pivoted toward him.
Hill's jaw dropped at its swift recovery. The monster moved in once again, turning as it did so.
Its tail whipped through the air. He backpedaled to get out of the way but did it too slowly. The stinger's sharp point, dripping with potent venom, was able to carve a diagonal slash across his chest.
He cried out, stumbling backwards and into the cave wall.
Rolling to the side, he avoided the beast's snapping jaws. But the damn creature was smart and had already anticipated his move.
Its tail curled upward, revealing a protruding organ that sprayed sticky webbing onto his legs, plastering them to the floor.
"No!" Hill thrashed against the bonds but to no avail. The creature lunged in, clamping its mandibles around Hill's left arm and bit down hard.
Bone splintered with a sickening crunch that was audible through the squished flesh. Hill's pained scream echoed through the cavern, an uncomfortable darkness clouding his vision. Strength drained from him, agony overwhelming his senses.
He tried to summon Phoebe, a vain effort. He couldn't even formulate the necessary thoughts to do so. All he could comprehend was the burning pain.
With a final burst of adrenaline, Hill willed himself and wrenched his mangled arm free.
He smashed his right palm against the monster's skull. Frosty energy spread from his hand across its face in jagged, crystalline patterns.
The beast shrieked and backed away from the boy. Hill grabbed the webbing, trapping his legs and pouring cold energy into the sticky strands. They immediately stiffened like leaves losing their moisture, becoming as brittle as ancient parchment.
Yanking away at the webbing, he was able to shatter it.
Rising on shaky legs, he faced the ugly creature. It convulsed, bloody foam spilling from its maw as it tried and failed to orient itself.
Now's my chance!
He swung his good arm, but before landing the blow, searing pain erupted through his torso. The gash across his chest burned like liquid fire. His knees buckled. He crumpled, retching blood and bile onto the stone floor.
The poison! It's in me... I can't... how do I...
Too late. Despite its injuries, the beast recovered faster. It pounced, countless eyes gleaming with primal hunger. Hill watched through fading vision as death approached, mandibles clicking toward his exposed throat. Icy numbness crept through his limbs as the monster closed in. The pain became distant, almost unreal.
This is it then... the end...
As consciousness slipped away, his thoughts drifted to his mother and sister, the false dream of the family waiting for his return.
----
Adelaide had felt hope spark when the dark-haired boy first appeared. Someone had come—maybe to save her from this nightmare. Then hope crashed as she watched the creature overpower him.
The venom paralyzed quickly, perhaps even stronger than her own. The boy lay helpless, his body surrendering to its effects.
Goddammit!
She strained against her bindings.
MOVE, dammit!
Her mind screamed commands her body couldn't follow.
Useless.
The creature had bound her too well, and even if she broke free, her bloodied leg would never support her.
She could only watch as the monster moved for the kill. It sprang onto the unconscious boy, jaws spreading wide to tear out his throat.
Then something strange happened. The air above the boy shimmered, temperature plummeting. Dust particles swirled briefly before settling, and a man stood where, seconds before, there had been nothing.
He seemed half-formed, translucent and gray like weathered smoke. Tall, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his eyes. A thick mustache jutted beneath the darkness. His clothes—baggy trousers held by suspenders and a loose, dirty shirt—looked like a laborer's from another time. A slender feather dangled from his lips.
He removed the feather, examined it briefly, then returned it to his mouth. His hidden gaze swept from the creature to the fallen boy.
For whatever reason, Adelaide's instincts were screaming at her to not make a sound or move a muscle. Her heartbeat began to skyrocket.
"Our host is damaged," the man stated flatly, his voice gravely as he looked at the monster. "I assume this is your doing?"
The creature, still twitching from its own poisoning, hissed and lunged weakly towards the newcomer.
The stranger sidestepped effortlessly. He spat the feather into his palm as the monster tried to turn, its movements clumsy.
With a snap of his fingers, the feather grew in size to the point where it was equivalent to the length of his arms.
The man stepped in and jabbed the feather at a leg joint.
Crack!
The sound was not correct, sounding too sharp, too solid for a feather striking shell. A feather.
The beast shrieked as the leg collapsed. Before it could react, the man struck again.
Crack!
Adelaide watched, her fear growing. The ghostly man was taking his sweet time decimating the monster with sweeping feather strikes. Each blow causing blood to seep onto the stone floor.
Another leg snapped. Then another. He jabbed an eye and it popped.
He struck the stinger's base and severed it.
Not fast or flashy, just relentless. The creature's struggles weakened with each blow, screeches melting into wet gurgles as dark fluid leaked from wounds.
When it lay broken and twitching, the man stepped back. He wiped the feather on his pants—strangely normal after such brutality. Walking to the monster's head, he drove the feather through its skull with a final, solid thump. It fell still.
He retrieved his feather, now normal in size, tucking it between his lips before nudging the corpse with his boot. Kneeling beside the boy's body, the mans fingers gently probed the gash and broken arm. He made a low sound that sounded like disapproval.
"Shoot, this needs patching," he muttered, rising. His shadowed gaze scanned the cave until it landed on Adelaide's cocoon. After a moment, he spoke again, voice practical. "Ah! But that webbing... it just might do."