Its face—if you could call it that—was a hollow skull, and inside the sockets glimmered two faint blue flames.
A dead thing pretending to be alive.
The giant took a single step forward, and the ground shuddered beneath its weight. Trees in its path cracked like matchsticks. Birds fled the canopy in screaming flocks.
"What the hell is that?" I breathed.
Lucas didn't take his eyes off it. "It's one of the Forgotten."
I swallowed hard. "Forgotten?"
"Creatures the king told me he used and discarded during his old wars. Half-spell, half-flesh, kept alive only by blood and hatred. I thought they would have been all destroyed."
The Forgotten raised one grotesque hand—and in its grip hung the broken body of another beast, one of the ones we'd fought before. As if to prove its dominance, it snapped the creature's body like twigs, dropping the remains with a sickening thud.
"Run?" I whispered.
Lucas gripped his sword tighter. "I don't think it'll let us run just like that."
