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Chapter 102: Alastor
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Chapter 104: Worship Stones
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... he clamor of battle carried without touching him, no heat, no ash, no bite of the smoke in his lungs.
The screams, however, reached him as sharply as if he stood beside each victim.
Alastor’s soldiers moved in rigid formations through the streets, their steps perfectly matched, the sound more like a clock ticking down than a march. Purple light pulsed from their chests in a slow rhythm, the glow spilling across the cobblestones in waves.
’They are perfect soldiers, built ...
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