Shards

Heavy, trudging steps were growing louder. I turned my face toward the sound. My breath caught in my throat. My hand searched for something to defend myself with, finding the dagger. Clouds of smoke crept in the space between me and the mass.

It was pure black in the smog, crouched on what might have been all fours. Wings stood as pointed peaks on its back. I could see its sides moving as it breathed. It began to creep forward, only stopping when it was poised to give chase. The tips of its wings pointed themselves at me like spears, and then they slowly unfolded and spread wide.

Two feral sparks of vermilion orange ignited where eyes should have been.

"It's not over." I whispered.