Those…things. They’re back. Zatar shrieked as his abdomen ached from their last visit, when it had been shredded to pieces by some sort of fire. Fire made of light? Zatar didn’t know. All he knew was the rage inside.

He needn’t wait.

Zatar was the first to strike, preparing to vomit the ball of energy collecting near his larynx. All he felt after that was pain, as fire tore into his jaw, throat, and eyes.

Then darkness.

This was the end. Or was it?