In the heavy clouds that roiled above, violet and mauve webs of light flashed violently like lightning - arcing through the gray skies.

No sounds rang through the outpost as shards of the obelisk began to fall to the earth, revealing a great, shadowed nook. Both cultists and Khormchaks stood in silent, terrified awe as the great crystal began to screech. Yesugei brought his hands to his ears as the screeching - like the sound of scratching glass shards - grew louder and louder until it seemed to fill the whole world.

Then all of a sudden, the screeching ceased. As Yesugei opened his eyes he saw something standing before the crystal.

It resembled a human, but plainly wasn’t one. It towered a full head over even Kaveh, but even if it were equal in height to the warriors and cultists and matched them in slenderness, it would still be a monster - for the differences it bore from man were more terrible than any legend, any inscriptions Yesugei had seen. The creature’s gray skin was cracked like heat-blasted clay. Its muscles looked as if they were made of rough rope, visibly twisted, bulging, and tearing through the cracked skin in some places. It bore a gray, lifeless face that resembled a mask and seemed to be falling apart at the severe, chiseled lines. Long, greasy black braids fell around the monster's waist - its naked form covered only by an ancient, patchwork skirt of leather. Its dull, narrow slits for eyes seemed to be empty, containing only small windows into twisting darkness.

“The time has come.” The monster’s voice sounded like cracking, crunching glass as it spoke the Common Tongue in a stilted, uneven tone.

The girl who had saved his life moments prior suddenly fell away from Yesugei, choking and wheezing as she grasped at her heart. The monster sensed this, and slowly began to move across the courtyard.

With its first step the cultists closest to the creature fell to their knees, gasping and spluttering. From behind their masks flowed blood - blood from their mouths, blood underneath their helmets, blood from the nose and eye-slits of their silvered masks, cast in a pale imitation of the monster their wearers had brought into the world. As the cultists breathed their last the creature extended one arm and waved it over the dead that lay in its wake. The bodies stacked by the obelisk and the corpses littering the courtyard suddenly began to twist and melt. Flesh, skin, bone and cloth twisted into a single viscous, colorless mass that pulled itself like a large tentacle towards the creature’s hand as it walked. The mass of melted bodies slowly shaped into a large curved cleaver - its handle a twisted spine, and its blade two parallel lines of jutting, yellowed human teeth. Long fingers ending in pitch-black nails tightened around the cleaver - its blade as long as a man stood tall, and half as wide.

Yesugei felt himself snap out of his terror just long enough to realize that only he, his companions, and the mysterious unconscious girl now remained - and still the creature approached them.

“Targatai! Khenbish! Get back!” he cried, readying his bow. He pulled back an arrow but suddenly felt his grip weaken and his vision cloud in darkness as the monster approached.

"Yesugei..." A weak cry came from Targatai as he sank to his knees. The archer gave a choked cry as blood spurted violently from his wounded side, then threw aside his helmet and began to claw at his throat.

Yesugei saw the veins in the archer's neck begin to swell and turn black as if filling with rot, and then begin to crawl up the archer's face which had turned as gray as stone. The keshik’s mouth opened into a final screech of despair before he fell on all fours, vomiting a wave of crimson and black pus onto the dirt as the monster's presence drew nearer. Targatai fell limp at the feet of the clay-skinned creature, his keen archer's eyes now bulging out of his skull and staring off to the side like a gutted fish.

Khenbish hastily scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over Tseren's hunched-over form as the shaman trembled and cried in fear, desperately clutching his bone-carved idol. The keshik left the shaman to fend for himself as he drew back towards Kaveh and Yesugei, his gaze still locked onto Targatai's body which lay in a puddle of oozing black and crimson. The three remaining warriors stood stock-still - Yesugei felt the overwhelming urge to run, but his feet may as well have been nailed to the ground for how his body refused to obey, paralyzed by awe and naked fear.

The monster extended an arm towards the three, and with a small flick of its wrist Yesugei heard the heavy slam of the wooden gates shutting behind them. The monster's finger traced a flaming symbol onto the wooden doors - an arcane rune Yesugei did not recognize - which burned brightly with baleful energy.

"Spirits of the Black Heavens, I beg of you to abjure this abomination from our midst!" cried Tseren, raising his carved idol to the sky. "Spirits of the White Heavens, I beg of you to deliver us!"

But the Tengrii spirits were silent, and the monster continued its slow, leisurely stroll. An invisible wave seemed to roll off the monster's body as it walked, and Yesugei saw the shadows of the standing houses and the towering trees lengthen and bend towards him and his company. Tseren continued to mutter his prayers. As the monster was almost upon him, the shaman's braids suddenly began to give off smoke. The small crystals, the teeth of night Tseren bore before them just the night before, began to crack and hiss as they shrank and fell from Tseren's loose-braided hair. The monster halted in its tracks, suddenly wary of the kneeling shaman now surrounded by a small circle of hissing black crystals.

"Khariija!" cried Tseren, throwing his arms to the sky as he chanted the name. "Savior of the Mother Woods! Hear the prayers of the Modkhai, for we call on you once more for your divine aid! Save us!"

The clay-skinned creature sank to one knee at the mention of the name - as if cursed. Yesugei felt his terror slowly ebb away as Tseren continued his prayer, now in the old, foreign tongue of the Modkhai. He heard hissing come from his belt, and looked down to see the dark eyes of the horse's head on his shamshir begin to give off a pale-green smoke. The small crystals burned so hot he saw the silver begin to tarnish and warp under heat, twisting the delicately-crafted horse's head into a melted abomination - an abomination that hissed with spite at the clay-skinned creature as it warded them from the approaching tide of death. He heard more hissing come from Kaveh, and saw pale green smoke rising out from underneath his tunic as his half-brother hurriedly pulled out the white silk handkerchief and tied it around the shaft of his spear, just beneath its steel tip. The monster now seemed to be struggling underneath the weight of its own unnatural body - and Yesugei realized they would not get another chance to move.

"Brothers!"

The three blood and blood-sworn of Tsaagandai-khan surged forward, weapons clutched in a death grip. Khenbish, clad in armor but without a crystal of his own, kept close to Kaveh’s raised wicker shield as glaive and spear charged in unison. The crystals in his sword continued to shrink and hiss, and Yesugei fanned aside the pale-green smoke before nocking an arrow. Tseren’s every word sparked a newfound confidence and warmth within his chest, and it flowed through his body with a calming rush as he took aim.

"The time has come!" The monster threw its gray hands into the air with a grating cry as it struggled to stand.

Yesugei's bowstring gave a loud thock and a barbed Khormchak arrow struck the monster in its chest, between the cracks of its hardened skin. The creature faltered, but continued to slowly draw itself to its full height as Tseren continued his desperate incantation.

"The time has come!" the monster growled again as it pulled the arrow from its chest.

Yesugei felt terror begin to eat away at the corners of his emboldened spirit, and he loosed another shot as Kaveh and Khenbish bore down upon the creature. His second shot pierced straight through the monster's cheek but was pulled out just as quickly at the first, sending black blood splattering onto the dirt. The gaping wounds left by the bladed barbs suddenly began to close as the monster's face and chest stitched themselves together.

"Qarakesek!" yelled Khenbish, and the glaive flashed as the keshik spun its blade through the air and cleaved into the creature's neck.

A loud crack sounded as the glaive's blade bit several inches deep into the creature's knotted neck, then stopped. More black, viscous blood seeped out from the wound and dripped onto the embedded blade, but the creature barely budged beneath a blow that would have instantly beheaded a mortal man.

Khenbish gasped. The heavy cleaver of flesh and bone whistled through the air.

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A rain of bright crimson blood watered the earth as the monster cleaved its own weapon through the keshik. The massive blade drove through heavy iron plates, flesh, and bone as if it were all paper, hacking into Khenbish's shoulder and only stopping at his hip. The keshik fell with barely a breath, and splattered into two dripping, quivering pieces as he hit the ground.

“No!” came a terrified howl from Kaveh who now stood rooted in place, his face and robes drenched in the fallen keshik’s blood.

Yesugei felt his own surging spirits drain, and his fingers hastily reached for another arrow only to grasp at thin air. He looked down to see his quiver sat empty.

“The time has come!” came the final shout from the monster as it ripped the glaive from its neck, and the torn flesh closed in an instant. Yesugei saw the crystals in his sword hilt begin to shrink ever faster - and saw the crystals that surrounded Tseren had already reduced to tiny, sand-like grains.

“Tseren!” The monster pointed a clawed finger at the shaman, who stood up at its command. His eyes looked glazed over, as if in a trance.

“The Star-Eater demands your sacrifice, Modkhai of the Mother Woods!” thundered the monster. Yesugei could utter barely a word before the shaman obediently drew his carved bone knife and plunged the curved blade deep into his throat.

As the Modkhai shaman gurgled violently, his eyes suddenly regained their awareness - just long enough to fix Yesugei with a terrified, dreadful stare before they rolled up into the shaman’s head. Tseren collapsed face-first into the dirt, his body twitching for a few breaths before falling still.

The monster gave a chortling, rasping laugh as Tseren’s blood seeped into the ground.

***

Vasilisa felt as though she were on fire - the crystals in her heart cracked and hissed violently underneath her clothes, and she choked on pale-green smoke that rose to her face. She scrunched her eyes shut in pain, and let out a weak cry as the crystals felt as though they wouldn’t stop burning until they melted through her.

The pain soon slowly ebbed away - the agony of the surging heat doused by a sudden sensation of cooling. Vasilisa opened her eyes to see three of the Khormchaks lay sprawled on the ground, bleeding and mutilated before the towering gray monster which had emerged from the crystal. The tall spearman stood paralyzed with fear directly in front of the monster, and it whirled a fleshy, bone-studded cleaver over its head as it laughed.

“Khariija...even the name of a slave to the Magnificent Ones has more power than your ‘spirits’,” the creature barked in the Common Tongue, laughing at the corpse of the elderly shaman. As the blade spun through the air Vasilisa heard whispers come from the earth, the blood-soaked dirt, and the looming shadows of the trees. They called for blood, ever more blood. A sacrifice of flesh and bone to the gods.

The nomad Yesugei threw his bow to the side and rushed towards the creature, sword in hand. But he would not reach his red-haired comrade in time. The whirling cleaver halted terrifyingly in the air as the monster gripped the gigantic blade with two hands to split the terrified spearman in half.

“STOP!” Vasilisa cried as the blade whistled downwards. The cry came to her throat naturally, but left her lips sounding like cracking, scratching glass. No sooner than her cry had sounded, the cleaver came to a whooshing stop mid-air, hovering just over the paralyzed red-haired spearman.

“What magic is this?” the monster exclaimed, and its chiseled, cracked face turned to look at Vasilisa. Its stony expression was set in terrifying serenity, but behind the crafted skin she knew it was shocked. Frightened. “You speak in the song of the stars?”

Vasilisa felt a strange, buzzing strength arise from her chest as the crystals thrummed with a new power. She suddenly felt as though she could move the heavens out of alignment, and cause the looming shadows of the forest to swirl and fall at her command. But more than that, she felt a strange, familiar sense of connection to the gray monster - one of master and servant.

“LEAVE.” Her command thundered like a mountain echo, sounding like grinding steel on steel. Her mind’s eye imagined herself pushing the monster back into the dark crystalline alcove from where it had emerged, and she saw the monster dig its heels into the ground as if a great, invisible hand pressed against its cracked chest.

“You are not among the Apostles,” growled the monster in the same, grating tongue. “Yet you call on the power of the Gods. Thief.”

Yesugei shook his comrade out of his terrified paralysis as the two Khormchaks looked on at her. Vasilisa now saw their weapons both bore similar black crystals - in the warped hilt of the nomad’s sword, and tied on a white cloth to a spear. But the power within their crystals was ancient and fading, the last captured breaths of a greater being long gone from the world. The crystal teeth within her chest surged with new, youthful vigor, and Vasilisa focused her thoughts into pushing the monster further away from the two men.

The monster resisted with a strained huff, digging its heels deeper into the dirt, and Vasilisa felt a great pounding explode from within her mind like two fists banging on glass. She faltered for a breath, and saw the monster’s body loosen from her strange hold. The monster fixed her with a deadly glare as it made to approach - and then a silver speartip stabbed into one of its swirling dark eyes.

“Focus!” shouted Yesugei at her in the Common Tongue as he and the spearman threw themselves in front of her and into the attack. The monster reeled from the stab to its eye and swung its cleaver, but the two nomads dodged aside with ease like circling wolves as they called to each other in Khormchak. Yesugei slashed his sword at the exposed, knotted muscles of the creature's chest, and the spear blurred as it ripped free from the creature’s eye and impaled itself through a skirted knee. The monster bucked lightly under the attack, and growled loudly as its wounded flesh wept black blood but struggled to seal itself.

Vasilisa breathed out, and ignored the pounding in her head as she reached out to the monster and imagined her slender fingers wrapping around the monster’s arms, pulling back against every swing of the cleaver. The monster’s slashes became sluggish and strained as it fought against Vasilisa’s invisible grasp, and the Khormchaks weaved away and past the cleaver like dancers as they slashed and stabbed, one attacking high, the other low. Black blood soon gushed from a dozen different wounds and the two nomads’ weapons were soaked in darkness, but still the monster fought - its focus torn between the nomads mauling its body and Vasilisa’s invisible hold.

“ENOUGH!” The monster roared so loudly the two nomads scrambled in frightened pause, and then it launched the cleaver straight into the sky. The giant weapon came to a stop in the air, and then began to spin like a massive scythe as it flew back down at an angle. Slashing directly for her.

Vasilisa threw herself to one side as the massive cleaver ripped just past her and buried itself three feet into the solid ground. The cleaver twitched, then jumped free into the air again to chase after her. Vasilisa gave a shout, and ripped her mind away from the gray monster to direct her attention fully on the hovering cleaver. She felt as though she were struggling to tear it free from another’s invisible grasp - one much stronger than hers. The monster’s invisible hand slowly crushed past her own panicked pulling against the blade, crushing past her will and her spirit.

In a blink of an eye, the cleaver disappeared from the air. Vasilisa felt white-hot, searing agony explode from her neck, but she found tilting her head to be a struggle as she tried to look at where she was hurt. Her left arm felt uselessly loose, and so she reached to her neck with her right to feel hot, leaking blood pour over her fingers. She traced a long row of teeth and tried to pull them free, but only succeeded in falling to her knees as the staggering weight of the cleaver embedded in her neck dragged her down.

She tried to take a breath - to focus her mind anew and push back the monster - but her throat felt tight, and she tasted bubbling iron in her mouth. In front of her she saw the nomads fighting the gray monster, but they began to melt from sharp, clashing figures into soft, bobbing colors - blue, green, and stone-gray crashing into one another.

Vasilisa became aware she was dying. Truly, definitely, dying. Her life essence dripped onto the ground, forming small pools that merged with larger splatters as more blood fell to earth.

Somehow, this didn’t seem like a bad way to die. Her mind numbed the pain - so much of it already suffered since she woke up from her nightmare. She pressed her scarred right hand against the dirt as she slowly sank forward, bracing herself. Wouldn’t want to hit my head, would I?

She felt her breathing slow, felt the rough dirt and tiny pebbles press small marks into her face and dress as she clumsily lay on her side. She tried to take another breath, and again tasted iron on her tongue. She stopped trying to breathe, and felt her mind begin to wander as the entire world bloomed into a blurry mass of colors.

This didn’t seem like a bad way to die. Fighting free from mysterious captors. Meeting talking animals. Battling alongside brave warriors against monsters. It was the kind of adventurous fate most warriors in her father’s court dreamed of - and the brief reality she lived. Brief.

Her mind swirled with questions, but none of them felt distinct enough to focus on. The swirling colors of the world grew dark. Dying felt less like how she imagined death, and more like falling asleep. Or was dying just like falling asleep, only to never wake again?

Falling asleep…

Falling…

Fall…