The creature was dead. Once more, silence fell over the camp like a heavy shroud. The soft breeze that had stirred around them—the one that had danced through the leaves and brushed their skin as Selene spoke in the ancient tongue—was gone. The stillness felt unnerving now, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Selene stood rooted in place, her chest rising and falling as she tried to calm herself. Her hands trembled slightly, though she quickly hid them behind her cloak.
The sudden lunge had shaken her. She hadn't sensed any warning. No flare of Magic, no shift in aura, just that hateful scream and the rush of claws meant to rip her apart.
The others were equally silent, processing what had happened.
The massive shadow's corpse remained impaled on Eccar's jagged spear of earth. Its twisted form sagged with weight and finality. But Eccar, calm as ever, made a flicking gesture with his hand, and the stone spear cracked apart, crumbling back into the soil.
