Cassian threw himself flat upon the earth, peering cautiously over the rise of the hill. What passed before him was no mere beast of the wilds—it was colossal. Its body was a ruinous blend of sinew and nightmare, the head of a goat yet stretched with jaws so vast the teeth hung in jagged crescents down to its shoulders. From its torso sprouted three immense arms, two corded with muscle, the third bent and sinewy like the limb of some carrion spider. Its legs—long, jointed twice like those of a hunting arachnid—moved with a gait both alien and horribly deliberate.
And behind it…
Figures.
Dragged through the soil, their limbs limp, trailing furrows in the dirt.
A cold sweat slid down his neck, yet through the gnawing dread there sparked a dangerous ember of hope. The dreams—those strange, spectral visions that haunted his sleep—had told him there were others like him. If those wretches shared his strange limbs, then perhaps, just perhaps, he might find kin among them. And if the creature had come from somewhere, then so had they.
He risked another glance. The monster's attention was elsewhere, its terrible head turning toward the east. Seizing the moment, Cassian slid through a narrow break in the slope, creeping low, then breaking into a half-run, half-crawl toward the abomination.
"This is a damned foolish plan," he muttered under his breath, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.
The thing halted. Cassian dropped behind a mound of wind-packed sand, heart hammering. He measured the distance between himself and the looming black structure on the hill beyond—too far. Far too far. The thought struck him hard: there are worse horrors yet in this land, and wisdom may lie in retreat, for now.
Then he heard it stop again.
The air seemed to tighten around him; his skin flushed hot, his breath shallow. "Keep walking… keep walking…" he urged under his breath.
A sudden THUD. Then another. Fast. Heavy. Approaching.
Cassian did not look back. He bolted for the hill, his boots tearing at the dust. The pounding drew closer—closer still—until he hurled himself down, rolling hard to the hill's side just as the monster's spidery limb slammed into the earth where he'd been standing.
For the briefest of heartbeats, sunlight caught upon something at its side—a flash of dull, battered metal. A wave of broken memories flooded him: voices, blood, steel—gone before he could seize them.
He almost lingered in the trance… almost. But survival clawed him back. He ducked low and ran for the building.
"Just give me a decent bloody evening," he growled through his teeth.
The creature shrieked—a sound of iron scraping bone—before tearing great stones from the earth and hurling them toward him.