Squinting to shield his eyes from the hail of debris flying at him, Dameen leapt forward and scooped up the sand of the beach in his giant clawed hands. The storm of sand and pebbles stopped instantly. A vicious sneering grin spread across his face as, carefully so as not to spill a single grain of sand, he lifted his cupped hands close to his snout. He drew in a long sniff through his nostrils and let out a slow sigh of satisfaction.

“Got you!” and he chuckled. “Now you bitch, you stay very still and listen very carefully to the last words you are ever going to hear. I have had it with you, all of you. I have had it with you and your interference in my business. I have had it with our mother and her arrogance. I have had it with the whole bloody system of rules and regulations and what I can and can’t do. I’m going to destroy it all, piece by piece. I’m going to take each and every single stinking, repugnant, meddling deity in my hands, just like I’m holding you now, and then I am going to destroy them. One by one I am going to turn them all to dust until there are no more Gods left, until there is only me and a whole cosmos for me to rule over as I wish, for ever!” He stopped for a moment to let the import of his words sink in. The sand in his hands lay still and silent. “I’m glad you paid good attention, little sister, and now that you understand I have only one last thing to say to you. Goodbye.” He straightened himself up and drew in an enormous breath feeling his anger and resentment turn into a raging inferno in his chest. He paused a moment relishing the promise of destruction to come. Then with a suddenly puzzled expression he cocked his head to one side and listened. “What on earth is that noise?”

At first only silence followed his question and then a sound began to build. The faintest suggestion of a whine became a distinct whistle that turned to a penetrating screech that increased to a terrible scream. From the very first whisper it had been chilling but now as it climbed to ever greater volume it took on an unbearable soul rending quality. Finally, establishing the direction that the noise was coming from, Dameen looked up into the sky above him. “I don’t believe it! What has that witch done now?” No sooner than the words were uttered than something black appeared in the sky above him. It hurtled down at incredible speed. There was the briefest impression of something dark and hard and solid before it hit the sand of the beach with terrifying force.

The impact was so great that a great rippling shockwave whiplashed everything briefly into the air before dropping it back to earth. Dameen was so shocked by the jolt that he forgot about the sand now trickling through his fingers and stared dumbstruck at the smoking disc of blackened and fused sand at the impact site. The moment passed and his eyes began to flick up and down between the black circle and the sky as if not knowing where best to look. Eventually he settled on the sky. “Was that it?” he called to the heavens. “If so, you missed!” He snorted and looked down at his hands. Only now realising that his prisoner had escaped he began to scour the sand around him for any signs of motion whilst cursing and muttering to himself.

His search was interrupted by another unexpected sound. He looked back at the area of blackened sand. An ear-splitting crack had torn the disc of black glass in two, straight across its middle. Smaller cracks were now appearing accompanied by further cracking and tinkling noises. As Dameen watched the surface of the splintering glass began to bulge and slowly, bit by bit, a tall powerful form rose from the charred ground. Dameen gawped in bewilderment at the dark hooded figure that now stood, almost as tall as himself, before him. “And who are you supposed to be?” In response the figure let out a growl like the grinding of continental plates before throwing back his hood to reveal flashing anthracite eyes set in roughhewn basalt features.

“This ends Dameen and it ends now!”

“Are you hard of hearing or something? I asked you, who you are supposed to be!”

“The supreme Goddess Moira commands, make things as they should be before laying yourself at the merciful feet of your mother to receive judgment!”

“You?” Dameen exclaimed in sudden recognition before stalking menacingly towards the adamantine figure. “I’ll get to Carthon in due course but you have just moved to the top of my list for termination!” The figure stood, unmoved by the overt threat, and unflinchingly held Dameen’s gaze in his own.

“Dameen, do not test me! Acquiesce or fear the consequences!”

“Consequences? What do you think you can do to stop me?” Dameen had almost reached the figure now. “I’m going to start by snapping your detestable neck and then I’m going to…” He reached out but, before he could grab his opponent, the figure threw his arms wide and let out a bellowing cry.

“Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise and Avenge!” Dameen’s hands landed firmly on the figures shoulders and he sneered down into the jet eyes.

“Pathetic theatrics! There was never ever going to be a chance that YOU were going to stop ME!” Dameen’s claws began to dig deep into the figures shoulders as he tightened his fingers. The figure stood stoically enduring the crushing grip. He looked up at Dameen.

“It is not I that shall stop you, it is they!” He pointed behind Dameen towards the water’s edge. Dameen glanced over his shoulder. The sea had taken on a dull patina and though there were hardly any waves it stirred and boiled. As he watched shadows began to form in the water and approach the beach. Then a great row of heads broke the surface followed by a second row and a third and more rows again and again as an army marched in close ranks silently up onto the beach. Soon hundreds upon thousands of phantom soldiers filled the beach standing, massed in battle formation, ready. Ghostly pennants fluttered in an unfelt breeze and armour and weapons glinted beneath an unseen sun.

“Really? More drama?” Dameen released his grip on the black figure and turned to regard the ranks of ghosts. He began to feel a little unsettled. Every single one of the countless spectres was staring directly at him. “Get lost you vile apparitions!” He stalked forward and raised his hand to swat them. The front row remained standing as his blow passed straight through them but his hand felt a discomforting chill. He withdrew it and blew on the back as he flexed his fingers trying to dispel the stiffening cold that had entered them. The first line of soldiers took a step forward and he instinctively took another swipe at them only to feel the chill biting even deeper into his flesh. They stepped forward again and this time he backed away only to find that in his distraction other platoons had got behind him and closed off any line of retreat. There was a brief pause during which a piercing terror engulfed Dameen before the ghost army, at the signal of unheard trumpets, broke ranks and charged.

Suddenly, they were all over him, grabbing and grasping at him, clutching at his limbs, climbing up his back, enveloping his head. Phantom swords, axes, pikes and bludgeons rained down on him and with every touch and blow he could feel the stiffening chill drive deeper and deeper into him. He tried slapping them away but they just clung to his hands and fingers muffling and smother him. He roared in rage but felt them climbing into his mouth and pushing down into his throat.

He had to get free of them! He had to get away! He tried to run but the cloying heavy weight of frigid death now clinging to his legs meant he could do little more than hobble. He realised there was only one avenue of escape left open to him. With a gargantuan effort he spread his wings and beat them free of the clinging ghosts. Then he beat them again and began to rise. Each irresistible stroke of his wings drew him a little further away from the ground. Slowly he rose into the air, dragging the ghosts up with him. They clung to him but they had no weight to pull him down with. Up he rose still further the effort of the climb bringing a new heat to his muscles that drove back the chill of the ghosts. Still they hung on, trailing down to the ground like long tendrils of tar being drawn out ever thinner. Dameen could feel he was winning the struggle and spared a final glance down at the black figure below him.

“I’ll be back for you!” he called and then with the next stroke of his wings he finally broke free. He climbed steeply up into the sky, building speed all the time, trying to shake the last of his tormenters free.