“OLIPHOS, HELP ME!” she cried.
But she didn’t see how he could. A towering wall of fire was closing in, searing its way toward her. Alex could smell the stink of her own burning hair. She hugged her rucksack close and thought of her dad.
Thunder rumbled in the mists.
She staggered as a great gale swept through the long grass, dousing the flames in a drizzly blanket of mist. Alex blinked, beads of cool water on her eyelashes. The gale had gone as suddenly as it had come, and taken the fire with it.
The world was silent. The mists lay heavy around her. Alex peered through the endless whiteness, hearing nothing but her own frightened breath.
The ground tilted under her feet, dropping Alex to her knees. A dozen sparrows fluttered cheerfully into the mists; earthworms and centipedes wriggled through the mud as if rushing to greet an old friend. Alex gazed ahead.
The mists were changing.
They were turning gray at their center, then blackest black.
Something was growing beyond the pale curtain—a shadow, a massive shadow. It came closer, on slow, careful footsteps that shook the earth. Alex felt sure that it was looking at her.
She noticed a long dark neck, and then, spreading out either side, two immense black sails. They grew larger, fanning out above, nearly touching at their tops. One fluttered slightly, and a second fierce gust swept across the field, silencing the last little flames.
There was a low creak, like an ancient tree bending in the wind. A breath as loud as a crashing ocean.
And then . . .
THUD-THUD. THUD-THUD.A heartbeat. Shuddering through the ground, making the insects jump. Like the heartbeat of the world itself.
Fear flooded Alex like ice water. She couldn’t move—she was certain her life was measured in moments. The shadow loomed closer. Alex closed her eyes.
There was another deep rumble. Another crunching footstep. Then nothing.
Alex dared to look.
The shadow was gone. She searched about, blinking, listening for that huge heartbeat.
Instead, she heard a soft tread of footsteps on grass. Someone was walking toward her through the mists, right where the shadow had been. White wisps curled from his shoulders.
“Now then,” said Oliphos, in a voice like gentle thunder. “You called for me?”
Copyright © 2025 by Struan Murray. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
