Height

It is a daemon. It stands thrice my height, and is formed of burnished metal and living flames. Its face is set in a snarl of hatred, and where it walks fire rages and death beckons. The spear – still intact, despite the blast – thunders towards me, hurled with immense strength. The weapon misses by a hair’s breadth and I glimpse cracks on its haft where the explosion damaged it.

From the Flames