-Lucien Draven:
The ground trembled beneath us, and from the gaping black void in the earth, the first curseborn crawled out. Then another. And another.
They were grotesque things—twisted, hunched figures of sinewy flesh and bone, their eyes hollow voids, their mouths stretched too wide, revealing jagged, needle-like teeth. The stench of death clung to them, thick and suffocating.
They shrieked, and the sound sent ice through my veins.
Then they attacked.
Elara was the first to move.
She raised her hands, and blue fire exploded from her palms, engulfing the closest creatures. The curseborn screamed as they burned, their shrieks piercing the night before they collapsed into smoldering husks.
Ronan moved next, fast and ruthless. He ducked beneath a lunging monster, his silver blades flashing in the darkness as he drove them straight through its skull. He yanked them out, spinning to slash through another. The curse crumbled at his feet.
I didn't hesitate.
