CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Thor descended the mountain toward the caves of the Cyclops, the sunset sky breaking all around him, lighting the world in a million shades of scarlet, and he felt as if he were being marched to his death—as if he were descending into hell itself.
He marched, the Legion members a safe distance behind him, Malic beside him, both of them still bound, Krohn to his side, the shouts of the beast, concealed in the cave, growing louder. The earth trembled as they went, and Thor could only imagine the ire of this beast.
Thor hated Malic with a passion reserved for no other. He had been unfairly setup because of him, unfairly accused, dragged into this, his potential death. Thor only prayed that the legend of the Cyclops held true—and that only the guilty one would be killed.
Th
