The Serpent and the Wings of Night

Humans were supposed to be safe here, within the walls of the kingdom—citizens, if inferior ones, weaker than the Nightborn in every way. Usually he spirited them away with his magic, unless it was some diplomatic event that required him to flaunt his Hiaj power. Hellhounds—enormous, hunched wolves with pure white fur, darkness rolling from their skin. He wielded a sword the way an artist wielded a paintbrush, each stroke an exercise in grace and beauty.