Jareth came running toward Amon, his boots splashing through the blood-soaked cobblestones. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, mana flaring to life along its edge.
"Hang on!" he shouted, his eyes narrowing at the tentacle holding Amon midair.
He swung his blade with all his strength. The sword met the dark flesh with a heavy crack but the tentacle was thick, harder than stone.
Jareth gritted his teeth, forcing more mana into his arm. The glow around his sword brightened, and with a final push, he sliced through it.
Thud!
Amon crashed onto the ground with the severed limb falling beside him.
"Aarghhh!" he groaned, blood spilling from his mouth. His breathing was heavy, ragged. Pain pulsed through every inch of his body. The creature had slammed him again and again like a rag doll. Bones cracked inside him; his ribs felt like shattered glass. The cold ache in his abdomen mixed with the burning heat of torn flesh.
