Page 114 of His Mark

I had thought the Nyktos were terrifying before. This was so much worse.

This one was taller than any of the others; its form was hunched over, but it still towered over us. Its limbs were long, gangly, its body lined with pale, translucent skin stretched too tightly over grossly elongated bones. Its eyes—well, there were way too many of those—glowed a sickly yellow, blinking out of sync.

Then, to my everlasting horror, it smiled.

Not the snarling, jagged-toothed grimace of the others, but a real smile.

Slow. Eerily calculating.

And then itspoke.

“More food,” it rasped, its voice viscous, wrong, like it had been formed in a throat not meant for speech. “Good. The King is hungry.”

I snarled, my teeth bared, my body straining against the bonds. “Come closer,” I growled. “I’ll feed you your own fucking teeth.”

The King tilted its head, considering me. Then it laughed. The sound crawled down my spine, a wet, rattling taunt of amusement.

“Ah,” it mused, its too-many eyes blinking independently, “this one still thinks it is a predator.”

It moved closer, slow and purposeful, its huge, clawed fingers dragging along the cavern floor.

I curled my lip, my entire body bristling with rage. “Iama predator.”

The King’s grotesque smile widened.

“Not in here,” it whispered.

The King moved closer, its pale skin too thin, stretched like wax over a skeleton that didn’t fit quite right. It gave the impression that it was resisting the urge to tear us apart right then and there.

But it wasn’t in a hurry because it wasn’t afraid of us.

That’s what made my guts twist. I had seen death, had felt it creep close, had looked enemies in the eye that wanted nothing more than to rip me limb from limb.

But this?

This was something else.

This thing wasn’t fighting us.

It wasplayingwith us.

The chittering and clicking from the swarm had faded into an eerie hum, the creatures shifting back, parting to make space for the King. I could hear Ryan breathing hard on my left, could smell the blood leaking from Varek’s side, sense Rowan still seething beside me, his eyes locked on the King like he was already planning to rip its throat out.

Then the swarm moved and brought Caleb out from their midst.

Dragged from the blackness, his body barely standing, his arms were held by two of the humanoid Nyktos. There were deep claw marks slashed across his chest. His breathing was rapid and shallowed by fear, his legs barely working as they forced him forward.

His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I knew he wasn’t getting out of this alive.

“Silas—” His voice was hoarse, a choked whisper.

I jerked against my bonds, a ferocious snarl ripping from my throat, pure rage flooding my veins. “Let him go!”

The King laughed. It was a wet, hollow sound, crawling over my skin like slime, like something that should have died centuries ago, but still lived. It turned its eyes to Caleb, its grotesque features morphing into something that almost resembled curiosity.

The King studied Caleb for a long moment, its monstrous, stretched skin quivering as if deciding whether he was worth the effort.

Then, with a movement so alien, so fluid it made my stomach turn, it lunged. Its clawed hand shot forward, piercing straight into Caleb’s chest.

---