It moves like liquid shadow, tendrils of darkness stretching, splitting, and reshaping themselves midair. Every step it takes shakes the scorched ground. Its presence is a living horror, the weight of a predator that exists only to consume.
Ryder’s sword gleams with raw, searing power, slicing off limbs that writhe, re-form, and lash out with blinding speed. The creature shrieks—a sound like metal ripping and wet stone grinding—vibrating the air so violently it scrapes across my bones.
River fights beside him, blades crackling with stolen lightning, each strike precise, synchronised, a desperate ballet against the impossible. Still, the Siphon keeps coming, an insatiable mass that seems to grow stronger with every blow.
My eyes scan for Nala, but don’t find her, and everything inside me hopes she’s okay.
I descend from the shadows, moving in long, controlled steps until I’m face-to-face with the horror. Even without a face, I feel itseeme. The way its body twists, with limbs that contort in impossible angles, and edges so jagged and pulsing, they send chills down my spine. Its “smile” is a cruel slash of black shadow curling where no mouth should be, a mockery, as if trying to be human.
River hurls blade after blade, but they vanish into the Siphon’s writhing form. Without his Gift to guide them, the projectiles disintegrate, absorbed, leaving him exposed.
“River, move!” I shout, swinging my sword to deflect a reaching tendril that lashes toward him.
He spins, barely dodging, the black appendage snapping inches from his ribs and throws a knife. Sparks fly as the blade collides with a hardened ridge along the Siphon’s body, but it still doesn’t stop it.
“Ah!” he yells, throwing another dagger straight into the mass. It vanishes before impact. “They just—keep—coming!”
The creature roars in response and lashes at him again. River ducks, but the force of the blow throws him against a smouldering tree. Wood splinters as the fire licks the edges. He groans, digging his hands into the earth, pulling himself up.
“River!” I scream, launching forward, my sword staggering a few of the Siphon’s limbs. For a heartbeat, the creature stumbles, but then regains balance.
Just then, my eyes catch movement above the flames—pink blurs at first, then Nala. She’s okay. She soars on Kareem with her arrows, five bunnies darting behind her like living embers, scattering granola like bullets. The Siphon swipes at them, but they split and multiply, breathing fire in chaotic bursts.
Within moments, dozens streak across the battlefield, a storm of pink flame and fury, each strike scorching the Siphon’s form, but never slowing it for long.
I raise my sword, stepping beside Ryder.
“We have to end this now!” I shout, channelling my heat into the sword until the blade glows as orange as the wall of fire surrounding us. He sends me a sturdy nod and lifts his blade in acknowledgement.
Together, we carve twin arcs of steel into its shapeless mass. But with every limb we sever, another one writhes, twists, then lashes out again.
Another tendril whips out—this one faster, sharper, and aimed directly at Ryder.
“Look out!” I yell, lunging and barely deflecting it with my shield. The shadow rakes past him, ripping his leathers and slicing a shallow line across his shoulder. He staggers back, blue sparks skittering along his sword as he struggles to regain his footing. Black sludge slithers across his bare skin, eager andalive—itching to pour itself into the fresh wound torn through his chest and claim him for its own.
I seize it.
My Influence snaps tight, the energy swallowing the darkness whole and hurling it into the fire, where it shrieks and burns away into nothing.
My eyes scan his for any sign of the Siphon’s control, and he reassures me quickly.
“I’m okay!” he shouts, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “I can still—fight!”
I glance at him, fear clawing my chest.
The Siphon isanticipating us now, reading our movements, predicting strikes before we can make them. It’s smarter, faster, more monstrous than anything I’ve ever faced. Its roar crescendos, fire twisting around it, black tendrils quivering with predatory intelligence.
“You’re gonna pay for that!” Ryder bellows, slashing with renewed fury. The impact shudders through the air as the Siphon howls, black ichor spraying where limbs were torn. For a moment, its movements falter, and we see a glimpse of vulnerability—but just a moment. It recoils, shrieking, and the ground shakes as it lunges again.
I step forward, my hand gripped tightly on my molten blade. “River! Cover me!”
He grins, teeth clenched, tossing knives with perfect arcs, the blue powder erupting on impact. Some blades graze the Siphon, breaking its focus just enough for me to strike, and I swear I see it shrink. One tendril lashes at me mid-swing—so fast and so heavy that it smashes into my shield, knocking me off balance, the impact making my teeth clack against each other in shock, but I recover quickly.
River isn’t so lucky. Another appendage strikes, yanking him off his feet. He tumbles backwards, blades skittering across thescorched ground. I don’t have time to think. I lunge quickly, grabbing his wrist with my own shadows and hurling him behind me, just as a jagged arm lashes where he had been.
“Thank you!” he gasps, panting, claws digging into ash.
“I’d like for you not to die, please,” I yell, more as a plea, slashing again, and River nods sternly, his cheeks flushed with the heat of the fire.
