IOWYN
The silence lasted exactly seventeen seconds.
Then the world cracked open and vomited forth the remaining Hunt battalion—not the organized force we'd faced before, but something infinitely more dangerous. Creatures without leadership, without strategy, without anything except primal hunger and the kind of murderous rage that comes from watching your cosmic overlords get locked away for eternity.
Pure, undirected chaos.
The first wave hit our perimeter with the force of a collapsing star. Riders whose bodies had been systematically flayed and rebuilt into patterns that defied comprehension charged through dimensional tears on mounts constructed from crystallized suffering. But these weren't the elaborate artworks we'd faced before—these were raw violence given flesh, built for des
