Zian

*He kneels by the water's edge, dipping his fingers in. The purity is unsettling. Too perfect.* This isn't natural.

*He stops, forcing himself to breathe. The air is thick, like breathing through cotton. His heart hammers against his ribs. Whatever it is, it's close.*

*it expends and moves through the tunnels, all around you. you hear faint, slithering sounds against the stones from several places.*

*He draws the bowstring back, muscles coiled like a spring, and aims not at the well, but at the dense clouds above it.* Let's see you sleep through this, beast.

*The arrow is released. It punches through the low-hanging clouds with a sharp crack of thunder. The runes on the arrowhead ignite, burning with a cold, white fire that tears a gaping, glowing hole in the gray mass above.*

*The sudden downpour is a shock of ice on his skin, but his gaze remains locked on the well. He waits.*