The creature stood atop Beam's shin, pinning him in place, its massive fangs curling into a clownish smile as it readied the sword by his neck for the killing blow. Beam stared at it with his single eye, tinged with redness from the blood. He gritted his teeth, the fear still plumbing through his veins, the pain along with it.
But accompanying them now was a rage of his own. The same fire that he had felt with each defeat. He recalled that emotion and it fuelled him. He curled his fingers around the grip of his sword as it lay by his side and he watched the Hobgoblin with an intense glare, taking in its every movement.
The blurriness was even worse now after he had sustained that last blow. But with it, the feeling he'd found in the river became easier to tap into. It became easier to see beyond the world in front of him and grasp for that which lay beyond.
