Damian's eyes remained cold with a terrible light filling them.
He saw the outline of the massive beast clearly.
It was a serpent.
But calling it a serpent was like calling the Roaring Stone Mountain a rock.
Its body was longer than the entire Purple Stone Tribe, coils of scales that shimmered with darkness and flashes of lightning that arced between them like living things.
Its head was not the head of a snake but something closer to a horse, elongated and terrible, with eyes that burned with the fury of storms and a mane of what looked like concentrated thunderclouds flowing behind it.
And it had wings.
Massive wings that spread from its serpentine body like the sails of impossible ships, their membranes crackling with electricity that turned the air around them into ozone. Each beat of those wings generated winds that bent trees and scattered smaller beasts. Each movement of its colossal form called forth changes in the weather itself.
Storms appeared around it.
