Hastan lay in the ruins of the house, his back slick with blood, the broken stone beneath him wet and dark with it.
Around him stood the Devourer Beasts, still breathing, still carrying that murderous hunger in their eyes, yet utterly motionless, as though whatever string had been pulling them had gone slack all at once.
He stared up at them and felt nothing. Not relief. Not the instinct to reach for the dagger and not even fear, which had been his constant companion since dawn, just a hollow, exhausted stillness clouding his mind.
The first thing that pulled his attention back to the world was the man standing up in the sky, facing Leviathan directly, the two of them meeting at eye level above the ruined city as though the battlefield beneath them was of little concern.
