Page 45 of Legacy of Chaos

Lights dimmed and flickered, things sparked, and Cyan dazedly tried to sit up. A strong arm forced her back to the floor.

“Stay down.” Stryke shoved to his feet.

She did not stay down.

The devastation was incredible: wrecked equipment, groaning metal, tinkling glass. And the stench of smoke, fuel, seawater, and brimstone.

Stryke turned to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said numbly. Her ears rang, and her stomach churned, but she wasn’t injured.

Taran stumbled around the space, checking on his people as Stryke wrenched open the door, its twisted hinges creaking and groaning. She followed him out to the railing, holding her forearm across her face to shield it from the dark, oily plumes of smoke. Down below, burning, mangled wreckage and fuel created a debris field in the roiling sea.

“I see movement!” She pointed to what appeared to be someone swimming in the waves. “There! We need to help them!”

She looked desperately for a life preserver. Yes! Found one—

“Wait.” Stryke grabbed her by the wrist. “Those aren’t people.”

Confused, she looked down. At first, she didn’t see what he was talking about, but shapes slowly formed out of the darkness. Figures with slick skin and monstrous teeth and claws. First, just a couple. Then a dozen. Then the water churned with dolphin-sized creatures that screeched as they tore apart the aircraft’s remains…and its passengers.

Horror crawled up her spine, paralyzing her as the reality of the situation sank in. Those poor people. And if this got worse, the poor planet.

“We got lucky,” Taran shouted from behind them. He jogged up, limping and holding his elbow. “The mages can erect a shieldto stop the wind and rain from damaging what’s left of our operations center.”

“Lucky?” Stryke asked quietly, but his voice somehow carried over the roar of the storm and the shrieks of the demons below. “We just lost a lot of good people.”

“It could have been worse, sir.”

Stryke stared down at the sea, which had claimed almost everything now. Even the fires waned.

“Oh, it’ll get worse.” His voice became distant. Haunted. “The initial disaster is just the beginning. The real carnage comesafter.”

Chapter 10

Stryke led everyone back to the forward operating center. The mages had already constructed a magical dome, and now that the storm was no longer pouring in, damage assessments and repairs were underway.

“Sir…uh, Taran.” A sandy-haired male with a scalp laceration and worry in his eyes looked between Stryke and Taran. “Mr. Stryke…”

Stryke made an impatient gesture at Taran. “He knows more about this operation than I do.”

The guy nodded but still addressed them both. “Our communications are completely down—radio, sat phone, personal devices. We have no way to call for assistance.”

Stryke automatically checked his wrist comms, and sure enough, there was no signal.

“A simple storm shouldn’t have knocked out the comms. Radio, sure. Maybe satellite. But the tech in my comms device network is practically bombproof.”

“But is it evil proof?” Cyan asked. She was staring out into the night, at the eerie, undulating fog that persisted despite the intense wind. It rolled and boiled like a living thing, unbothered by wind and rain that should have ripped it apart.

Evil. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of a disruption of that sort before? When he’d assigned the team to reinforce the network against any and all potential threats, they hadn’t even considered demonic energy.

He wheeled around to Twila. “What kind of readings are you getting from the fissure?”

Gaze fixed on half a dozen screens in various states of functionality, Twila scrubbed a bleeding hand over her face. “The seismic equipment is broken, and I’m not sure the temperature readings are reliable. They’re fluctuating wildly.”

Cyan frowned. “Can I see the photos I was looking at earlier?”

As Twila brought up the images, Taran leaned close to Stryke. “Sir, can I talk to you? Alone?”

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