Down in the basin of the pass, the horror was fully active. A small outpost settlement, meant to guard the trade routes, was currently crawling with shapes that defied natural geometry.
They were creatures made of pure, ravenous hunger—distorted silhouettes with too many limbs and jaws that split open down to their chests, driven entirely by the centuries of human resentment Norx had stitched into their skin.
A few surviving local guards and fleeing townspeople were backed against a crumbling stone barricade, their standard iron weapons chipping and melting the moment they tried to strike the beasts' hides.
Julian's vibrant blue eyes narrowed into chips of ice. He could feel the familiar, heavy pulse of something trying to flare a warning in the back of his mind, but he didn't know what it was. And he didn't heed it either because now, with his divinity, the demons could not harm him.
