The word was barely coherent now, just a feeling more than a thought. But it persisted. Stubborn. Refusing to be completely devoured by the darkness.
The creature's heart gave a final, shuddering beat.
Then stopped.
The massive body went still, its thrashing ceasing as death finally claimed it. The countless tendrils that had been fighting Nero's shadows went limp, floating in the darkening water like dead seaweed.
But Nero didn't stop eating.
He couldn't. The Yang form was in full control now, and it wouldn't be satisfied until every scrap of the creature had been consumed. His shadows spread through the corpse like roots through soil, seeking out every remaining morsel of flesh, every organ, every piece of bone and cartilage and stranger materials.
He ate the lungs—six of them, arranged in a cluster near what might have been the creature's spine.
