"It's like watching someone try to pick a lock with a fish."
***
The shaman's roar shook loose stones from the tunnel ceiling.
Each one clattered against the floor like broken teeth. Rhys pressed himself harder against the wall. His injured shoulder screamed in protest as the rough stone dug into his back.
The creature's rage had transformed into something beyond fury. A primal force that made the air itself feel heavy and wrong.
He could taste copper on his tongue. Whether from blood or fear he couldn't tell anymore.
"You dare mock the songs of my people?"
The shaman's voice cracked like splitting timber. Each word reverberated through the narrow passage until Rhys felt it in his chest.
"You think your words can protect you from true power?"
The grey-robed figure remained motionless.
