The fist came as fast as his presence, and Zavian found himself flying back in the air with a force that knocked his breath away when he hit the ground. He heard a cracking noise, and his body felt like a sack of potatoes, bones misaligned and heavy.
Zavian pulled himself up, not acknowledging the bleeding on his legs, and Aloysius walked to him, the Darstun soldier behind him, ready to finish what he started.
"He is mine now," Aloysius told the soldier, predatory eyes gleaming at Zavian.
To his far right, Zavian saw Freya fighting for her life in the circle of the enemy's soldiers around her. She was fighting with the plaque sword meant to kill Aloysius, and she could not make her way out of the ambush of the soldiers yet.
"You surprise me, son," Aloysius started. He looked even huger, his domineering frame covered in healed scars, face jagged from the horrors of the Underland.
