"I've always been partial to older women."
Curiosity sparks in her eyes.
"Am I older than you?"
"By a lot, Queenie." I trail a finger over her wing, delighting in her small shiver. "I'm thirty. Most humans wither and die by the time they're seventy."
"I see," she pauses. "Does it bother you? My age."
"Not even a little." I swallow thickly. "Just like I hope it doesn't bother you that?—"
"Watch out!"
Arden's scream rips through the meadow.
She leaps at me. Her small body tackles me to the ground. I roll her beneath me on instinct as her arms lock around my neck. Rotting grass smears us in putrid brown stains as we slide through the mess.
The scent of death overpowers her sweet fragrance.
My hackles raise, and bastard that I am, I take a moment to savor the delight of her body beneath me. Present danger be damned.
Each one of her soft curves presses into my harsh contours. Her breasts pillow between us, teasing the neckline of her dress. The short hem rides higher on her thighs.
With a shuddering sigh, I grip the hilt of my sword and look up to see what caused her fear.
Pure darkness weaves between the petrified tree trunks. The rancid scent of rotting flesh and festering blood pours from the inky tendrils. Terrible power brushes against me, causing my beast to snarl.
Arden trembles. Cold pours from the entity, leeching the color from her face. Her magic is reduced to embers that spark from her palms, only to die in its presence.
I lurch to my feet, tucking Arden firmly behind me as I brandish my sword.
The power surges forward, splintering the trees and lacerating the ground. From where the grass has been cleaved,two halves separate, revealing boiling pools of black goo. A green-tinted haze covers the ground.
Rancid humidity makes my hair stick to my forehead.
Arden grips the back of my shirt. Her presence is the only reassurance I need to face this creature with honor instead of fleeing. The urge to run is there, just as it has been at every perilous moment I've encountered over the course of my life.
This is no pirate crew or enemy battalion. This is death come to reap our souls.
I am not just a treasure hunter looking for riches. I am a man with a female to protect. If I perish in these lands, so does Arden. I'd rather give myself to the darkness to spare her and her people from any more suffering.
Her good nature is rubbing off on me.
The goo snaps and writhes from between the broken ground. It slinks onto the grass with a hiss, rolling and collecting from each pool until a singular mass forms. The dark tendrils of power wrap around the figure, strengthening it until it rises into the air.
A pair of dark horns emerges from the goo.
Their deadly points are covered in an oily sheen that glistens in the low light. Two hands emerge next, each made of writhing goo and tipped in sharp claws. They gleam the same obsidian color as the towers spread throughout the Deadlands.
"I take it this is who we've come for," I call over the rising wind.
"The Void," Arden breathes.
It is more terrible up close.
The imposing figure ascends to a staggering height. Its horns graze the top branches of thedeadtrees. From deep within the mass of swirling goo, two glowing red eyes emerge. The figure splits its top portion, exposing two rows of sharpened teeth.
Sinewy lips pull into a grotesque grin.
