Bride of the Beasts
Lion bodies, scorpion tails arched high, each one moving in perfect, unnatural formation.
Behind them, the sky darkened as a carriage descended, borne by two harpies—half bird, half human, their wings beating hard enough to shake the branches.
Brammon scoffed beside me. “Of course,” he said. “He wouldn’t miss the chance to make an entrance.”
The carriage struck the ground with a heavy thud. The door creaked open.
And out stepped Gadreel, King of the chimeras.
A beautiful human face—but from the waist down, he was all goat: hooves, coarse fur, the unmistakable gait of a satyr. Chimeras couldn’t shift like we could. They were born half-beast and remained that way.
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