The Drychta staggered out from the base of the mountains, many on fire. I watched others jump off higher peaks, screaming as the flames consumed them until they were but balls of light, falling like rain.

As they plunged down, I saw them change. Their bodies warped and shifted. They did not hit the ground with lifeless thuds, but with raspy chitterings and undulations as their midsections broke and re-formed and gave way to new segmented bodies, horrible insect-like mutations fused with mammalian limbs. Still burning, they skittered forward, shrugging off the fires like they had their humanity, creeping toward the stricken Odalians and Yadoshans who retreated from the sight. Nothing in their training had prepared them for such macabre alchemy.

It was the nanghait that saved them. Rushing forward with its trunk-like legs, the daeva scooped up the first of the grotesque insects. Its jaws unhinged, and it stuffed the creature into its gaping maw, its crunching curdling my blood. Another insect leaped forward, but the nanghait was ceaseless, simply shifting its head to present a second hungry face to consume a fresh meal, and then another, and another.

The taurvi lifted its head and sang a lullaby, a seductive melody that should not have been possible from those ruined mandibles, those protruding fangs. The blighted Drychta slowed, transfixed by the sound, as did other soldiers nearby—including me. It stole into my head, erasing all emotions in me but rapture. All thought of fleeing, or moving, slipped away. The aeshma lumbered close, ignoring us. It rolled itself into a ball and mowed down the immobile Drychta without pause, stampeding through the flock even as they sat and listened to its brother daeva’s deathsong.

But the savul was a much more brutal beast; it clawed eagerly into anyone close enough to obstruct its path, and I could hear General Lode over the din, yelling at the rest to fall back, to keep away from the daeva.

The zarich breathed ice and mist. The crackling stole up Drychta legs, rendering them useless as it sliced through their scaled bodies. And still, the azi above us continued its pillaging, promising more infernos.

The others had not been idle. Arcs of Fire and Ice and Wind and Lightning filled the sky as the asha and the Deathseekers attacked, halting the Drychta’s progress. Lord Agnarr and his men knelt, hands firm against the ground. The nearest Drychta took a step and sank into unexpected quicksand. The earth shuddered as spikes jutted out without warning, impaling others.

“Tea!” Lord Fox rode into view, cutting down every Drychta in his path. His eyes were trained on the azi flying overhead, and he exchanged his blade for a bow that was strapped across his shoulders. He strung an arrow and loosened it quickly when the three-headed daeva sailed nearer to the ground. There was no visible wound, but the azi veered away.