But it was too late. None of them had taken proper preparations, and as soon as the Opal hunters came within range, the Weeper’s power took them, and they fell from the sky, one after another. More targets for him to protect.

Furious, Vasin smashed the Murker he was holding against a nearby rock, and started wading through the swamp towards the Weeper. It had partially raised itself from the water, revealing a thick serpentine body, encrusted with milky boils.

Unlike his hunters, Lakshin was cautious, hovering above the Weeper on huge pearlescent wings. With meticulous care, he took aim, but didn’t throw, adjusting several times as Vasin advanced.

He should have thrown already. He’s too hesitant.

By now the element of surprise was gone, the Weeper well aware of the Opal’s presence. Perhaps that’s his plan, get the Weeper to look up and expose its face.

As if reading his mind, Lakshin took that moment to throw. He and the Weeper watched the elegant weapon arc through the sky, the crystal tip singing with purpose. It came down fast but too low, sinking alongside Vasin’s hopes. A good shot would silence the Weeper, turning the tide of battle in their favour. Lakshin’s throw was only adequate however, striking the belly rather than the head.

In answer the Weeper directed its shout towards Lakshin. Though the Opal Deathless was protected from the malice in its cry, the sound disrupted the already weak essence currents, sending him tumbling from the sky. He hit the swamp face first, broad wings slapping the water with a loud splash.

Vasin grabbed the nearest Murker and jumped onto it, using its body as a platform to kick off from. It didn’t give him much height, but it was enough to glide the last twenty feet to where the Weeper was. He punched his spear through the first of the five heads, leaving it there as the Weeper tried to ram him with its thick skull.

Something made it hesitate, however, as if it had second thoughts at the last moment. Taking advantage, he kicked out sideways to avoid the attack, and twisted his body so that the sharp edge of his wing sliced through another of the smaller heads, taking off the jaw completely. Suddenly afraid, the Weeper lurched away from him, but Vasin was faster, grabbing the edge of the crest and tearing, using the Weeper’s own momentum against it. Thin bones snapped and skin shredded, leaving him with a handful of crest and another head, now silent, and the Weeper rolling with pain at his feet.

Vasin didn’t dare take the time to finish it off, instead reaching into the water to wrap his fingers around Lakshin’s shoulder plate and heave him upright.

Behind the visor, Lakshin’s eyes were wild with fear.

‘You are Deathless!’ shouted Vasin, shaking him. ‘Your hunters need you. Now!’