“Creyt’Owes, save us,” Darek muttered under his breath. He looked to his three companions behind him and knew everyone here was doomed.
The scene in front of him was the stuff of nightmares. Black mists, creatures without skin, creatures covered in what can only be described as blood, and all matter of foul beasts were pouring out of the cultists’ portal.
“This can’t be real!” one of his companions, a bard, shouted over the roaring sound being created by the portal or the mass of monsters or both. He looked like he was taking the scene in, committing it to memory, like he was excited about what was happening.
The monsters caught sight of the group, and in that moment Darek knew what he had to do. His grip tightened around his maul, “Run!” he belted at his companions. “I call upon Creyt’Owes, the mightiest of Exdall!”
Invoking his god, Darek fought off the horde of abominations long enough to let his companions escape. His final sight before meeting Creyt’Owes was the bard. A bright flash that seemed to come from Kaladin, thrust the bard backward. He could have sworn he also heard Kaladin saying, “We need the extra time.” Darek watched as the bard, too, was consumed by the monsters, giving Kaladin and Thingol the time they needed to escape.