Flint swallowed hard, the sound grating in his own ears, the icy terror radiating from the pit paralyzing him.
He slowly, nervously, turned around, still clutching the unconscious Elena.
Standing upright in the center of the deep fissure he had created was Grey.
His posture was unnatural, rigid, his arms hanging low and loose, his body appearing as if held up by invisible, taut wires.
The transformation was absolute and horrifying.
Two huge, curved, dagger-like horns jutted viciously from Grey's temples, their surface appearing like polished bone.
His upper body was charred black; his shirt had been vaporized, leaving only tattered scraps clinging to his waist.
The essence of the change was in his aura and his eyes.
His pupils had turned a shade of pure, feral crimson, burning against the now abyssal black whites of his eyes.
Dark crimson aura steamed off his skin in thick, volatile clouds, making the air around him shimmer and distort.
