Help us! Phae begged, running as fast as she could, sensing a Dryad tree just through the mist ahead. She didn’t know why she pleaded for help, or to whom she pleaded. It was instinctive, born of desperation and terror.

And then she heard the Fear Liath snuffling after her into the mist.

Paedrin was blind, but he could see the massive shape of the Fear Liath in the shadow world of his second sight. It was an inky black blur, a being that sucked in life and light from all around. It was the incarnation of death, a predator to both man and beast. He remembered the fear of facing one outside of Drosta’s Lair. This time, there was no Druidecht summoning them to a hollow trunk. He realized that if he had faced the beast that night, with a broken arm, he would have died almost instantly.

He whipped the Sword of Winds around, severing a Cockatrice in half. They were all around him, drawn to his presence as a challenge. Khiara had also risen, using her long staff to bat them away and scatter the rush. She was closing her eyes and so could not be effective, but there were enough that it was not difficult to hit one with almost every swing.

Paedrin swooped down, stabbing another from behind before flinging its carcass aside. The Fear Liath had left Tyrus in a heap and was turning again after Phae, who fled into the woods. Shion bounded after her, already trying to intercept it, fleet-footed and sprinting, but there was no way he could catch up in time. The monster was huge yet quick.

Snarling with frustration, Paedrin dived after Phae, surging through the trees to provide another obstacle. Suddenly Baylen struck the beast’s pelt with one of his twin broadswords. It was like watching a blade slice at ooze. The mass quivered, but the edge could not penetrate the hide. Tossing aside the weapons, Baylen grappled the Fear Liath with both hands, using his own mammoth strength to forestall it.

The Fear Liath snarled and twisted, slashing Baylen across the back with its claws. The Cruithne shrugged the blow, dropping low, and tried to heave the monster aside. The two were a tangle of mass, full of muscle and bone and savage sinews. Baylen kept away from its slavering jaws, gripping the pelt and shifting his stance to try to undermine its energy. He was using the Uddhava, changing his attack constantly, cuffing its snout when it tried to bite him again.

Paedrin soared right at it, aiming the Sword of Winds at its neck. The blade slipped harmlessly off its pelt.

“Help me!” Baylen roared. “Aran! Kiranrao! All of us!”

The Cruithne was bathed in sweat, his face twisted with determination. Suddenly the Fear Liath snarled and heaved its bulk on top of the Cruithne, bearing him to the ground with a crushing weight. Paedrin heard the sickening sound of snapping bones. A groan of agony came next and Paedrin blanched with horror. The Fear Liath’s jaws snapped at the Cruithne’s head, digging into the hair and bone.

Paedrin’s heart screamed in defiance. He hacked at the monster from above, trying to draw it away, but every slash was useless against its slippery hide.

The Fear Liath rose suddenly, slashing Paedrin across the middle. He felt the claws go through his skin, but he was beyond pain at that moment, too shocked to comprehend the damage that was possibly done.

He felt his life begin to leech out.

Phae gripped the object in her hand, not wanting to lose it, but also not wanting to squeeze it too tightly to activate its magic. She glanced down at her palm, saw the slender, carved stone with sigils carved into it.

“Phae!”

It was Shion’s voice.

She looked back, but only saw the mist. The sound of pain and dying came from the billowing folds. She could no longer see the Fear Liath, but she could hear its coughing bark and sensed it coming.

To my tree, Sister! Flee to the tree!

The lure of the Dryad was clear in her mind. The monster would not be stopped by Dryad magic; she knew that. But if she could climb into the branches a bit, perhaps that would save her from the Fear Liath. She wanted to break down into terrified sobs, but she couldn’t. Each step brought her closer to the tree.

The crooked branches appeared out of the mist ahead of her, a trunk large and gnarled, as if its entire frame were wracked with indescribable agony. There were no leaves, only thick clumps of mistletoe. The lower branches sagged to the forest floor. One had broken off, leaving a jagged wound in the trunk.

“Phae!” Shion called again.

She surged forward, closing the distance to the tree. After stuffing the stone into her pocket, she jumped over one of the low-hanging branches. Mist and sweat caused beads of moisture to trickle down her cheeks. Frosty breath came from her mouth as she gasped, feeling the cold even more pronounced.

This is its lair.