This will probably be finished next week; it’ll be more than 3K words, but not too long. I have about three, four scenes left to write.
In the spiky shadows of the ward and Curwin’s tonfa the attacker was no more definable than a haze, roiling and oozing around itself. But it was a directed, twisted haze that hinted at ancient hungers — and a terrible, voracious need. I was shocked, honestly. How could something this powerful still exist in the United States? We had Soothed our portion of the East Coast centuries ago!
Fortunately, it was also not subtle: the enemy’s first attack was an attempt to batter down my ward with sheer force, which is obviously the exact thing that the spell is designed to counter. I still almost staggered as a whip of cloud-curdled magic smashed against my ward, scoring the ground in front of it as it recoiled and drew back.
“Stay inside the ward!” I shouted, my free hand twisting as I assembled another spell. “It’s a manifestation!”