Page 80 of The Ascended
A silver shape dove from the sky—the eagle we'd been hunting, its wings trailing through the mist. But instead of landing, it slammed into the stag's corpse.
The stag's body convulsed, twisted,changed. Its golden hide rippled as silver feathers pushed through from within. Wings erupted from its sides in fountains of golden blood. And then it grew. And grew.
The stag's legs stretched and warped, hooves splitting into talons that gouged deep furrows in the earth. Its neck elongated, thickened, metallic scales replacing fur as the eagle's head merged with the deer's skull. The resulting face was a raptor's beak lined with flat grinding teeth, and eyes that burned with amber fire.
The abomination stood, testing wings that spanned twenty feet.
"We need to run," I whispered.
The contestant from earlier—the one we'd spared—emerged from the treeline. His own metal horns curved from his temples, blood matting his dark hair. He hadn't run. He’d stayed to watch, maybe to help, or maybe he was just too stunned to move.
Now he raised his bow with shaking hands.
The arrow flew true—a perfect shot that would have dropped any mortal beast. It struck the abomination's eye dead center, sinking deep into amber fire.
And dissolved.
The contestant's face went slack as the beast turned its full attention on him. But he didn't run. Instead, frost began gatheringaround his hands. Ice erupted from his palms in jagged spikes, each one roaring towards the monstrosity.
The creature staggered as the cold bit deep. Frost spread across its wings, weighing them down. Ice crystals formed in the joints of its legs.
The contestant pressed his advantage, and his breath came in desperate clouds. Ice formed beneath his feet, spreading outward in fractal patterns. Massive frozen spears materialized in the air above him, then launched forward.
The abomination screamed again.
"He might actually—" Thatcher began.
The contestant froze mid-cast.
His eyes went wide, hands clawing at his throat.
His skin split, peeling back like old paint, revealing darkness beneath. Wood.
Branches burst from his mouth with such violence that teeth scattered like broken pearls. More erupted from his ears, his nose, the corners of his eyes. They grew, reaching toward the sky as if desperate for light.
His scream cut off as wood filled his throat from the inside.
In seconds, where a person had stood, there was only a tree. Young and healthy and fed by the blood of its birth.
"Davina," Marx breathed, and in her voice I heard something I'd never expected from her—fear. "We’re no longer the hunters. We’re?—"
The abomination turned those burning eyes toward us.
"We’re the prey." I finished, scrambling to my feet.
"Run," Thatcher said.
We ran.
Behind us, the creature's scream devoured the quiet whole.
Chapter 21
The Hunted
The abomination'swings pummeled the air above us, each beat sending trees crashing down like matchsticks. I threw myself over a root, my new antlers snagging on a branch that nearly snapped my neck backward. Stars exploded across my vision. The weight of them—gods, the weight threatened to bring me to my knees with every step.
"This way!" Marx's shout cut through the creature's screams.
