"What the hell is happening?" Jinn muttered, his voice low but tight as his eyes searched the skies above.
Black.
The heavens, once filled with light, now void of everything.
No clouds. No stars. No sun.
Nothing—except the red, twitching eye that writhed and pulsed high above them. Its massive iris, centered in a nest of living tendrils, shifted.
It watched.
It knew.
A cold weight settled on Jinn's chest.
But he moved.
Boots pounding across the trembling earth, he sprinted toward where Ophelia and the others had gathered.
Their faces were tilted upward, frozen in disbelief, fear, and awe at the sight above.
The winged figure in the sky flapped its four long, writhing wings, each beat releasing subtle gusts that whispered across the air like distant screams.
Mist poured from the sockets of its eyes, oozing like living shadow, curling and seeping through the air as if whatever was inside the beast was pure darkness itself.
And then its gaze shifted.
