Rob was drawn to the effigy on the platform, he brushed past Galen and stopped beside it, watching the colors play around the human figure carved from stone. It was old, it had the deep shine of something ancient, something touched by magic for long centuries. He reached out to touch it, watching as his hand moved through the swirling colors like it was passing through waters rippling with sun and shadow. His hand came into contact with the stone, it was warm, the magic flowing around it, heating it from within. There was a deep thrum of power there, the stone had been witness to myriad rituals over its vast existence. He could see some of what it had witnessed swirling over the stone—mists, horses pawing at the earth, the Hunt poised to ride, other creatures waiting and watching as the Hunt gathered. Without warning one of the
feorhbealu
was there, racing through the landscape, the Hunt turned, but the thing sensed Rob, it stopped and turned towards him, a growl rumbling through the stone, the colors moving around it altered as the thing focused on him. It held him transfixed, the touch of its darkness curling through his body. The
feorhbealu
started moving towards him, slowly becoming visible. It was far more horrifying than the thing they’d fought in the park, far more terrifying than the Old One they had faced the year before. It knew what he was becoming, and he knew it would kill him before he could take his place with the Hunt if it could.