Eyes closed, Dasha allowed himself to drift into the realm of imagination, where he could almost feel the chaos he had orchestrated. The potions he had sold to Heng and Shaoruo were at full throttle. The transformations had taken effect and now…
He imagined it.
He imagined the strongest of them tearing through the fighters. He imagined a werewolf seeing Dürr outside the Dark Tower. The beast turned its gaze on him and chose him to be its next death. The next mutation.
Dürr tried to draw his sword, but the creature was upon him in an instant. Claws raked across his arm, and he screamed in pain as flesh and muscle were torn away. He ran. He kept running. He was slammed. Tackled. Nearly killed.
