The Monument of the Dark's eyes sharpened with such predatory hunger that goosebumps crawled down Martin's spine.
She had found the source of those overwhelming emotions, and now she wanted all of them dead.
For an instant, the valley seemed to shrink beneath her stare. Black rain poured over her shadowed face and ran down her cheeks like ink, while her violet eyes remained fixed on the ridge. Her extra arms twitched at her sides, restless and wrong, and the hooked appendages behind her shuddered with the same ugly tension. The expression twisting her face no longer belonged to a simple monster choosing a target. It belonged to something ancient remembering how to hate.
Then she leaned forward, folding with a corpse-like stiffness, as if rage had taken hold of bones that had forgotten the shape of life. Beneath her, the lake rippled once before breaking apart under the force of her launch.
