Chapter 52
The hydra-manticore twisted and turned in the sky in a desperate struggle, nine necks writhing like living whips, venomous heads snapping at empty air. Cain and Little Purple faced 02 alone—no other wyvern dared intervene. The rest of the flock circled high above, wings beating in uneasy rhythm, eyes wide with instinctive wariness. The pressure radiating from the chimeric beast was suffocating; even the storm clouds overhead seemed to part around it.
Cain refused to yield ground.
His massive wings snapped outward—black membranes stretched taut—and he clamped both fore-talons around one of 02's thicker necks. With a powerful downward beat he pulled, dragging the ginormous frame upward.
02 screeched, wings thrashing wildly, but Cain's grip was iron. Muscle and scale strained; the creature's weight fought against him, yet he rose—higher, higher—refusing to let gravity claim victory.
