The ruins of the Lycian citadel were bathed in moonlight. The Chimera prowled the broken stones, a grotesque king of a dead kingdom. It was a creature of chaos—lion front, goat middle, snake tail—each part arguing with the others.
Above, in the rafters of a shattered temple, the Strzyga waited.
She was a Slavic demon, a woman with two hearts and the eyes of an owl. Owl-Borne Stalking. She hunted silently, her feathers absorbing the sound of the wind. She saw the beast below. She saw three necks. Three arteries. A feast.
The Ambush
The Strzyga swooped. She moved faster than a blinking eye. Sanguine Harvest.
She aimed for the goat head, perceiving it as the weak link. Her talons, sharp enough to cut iron, raked across the goat’s flank. She landed on its back, preparing to sink her teeth into the spine.
The goat bleated in terror.
But the Chimera was not one beast; it was three.
The snake-tail hissed, sensing the vibration on its spine. It struck, biting the Strzyga’s wing.
The Strzyga shrieked, annoyed but not stopped. She tore at the goat flesh.
The Furnace
The lion head turned. It didn't roar. It took a deep breath.
The Strzyga looked up, right into the golden eyes of the primary head. She realized, too late, that she was standing on top of a living flamethrower.
Tri-Headed Conflagration.
The lion exhaled a cone of liquid fire. The goat, panic-stricken, added its own magical heat. The snake spat venom that ignited in the air.
The Strzyga was engulfed. Her feathers, dry and old, caught fire instantly. She tried to fly, to flee into the night air, but the heat was absolute. She was incinerated mid-screech, her two hearts stopping simultaneously, leaving only a pile of ash on the Chimera's back.
The Chimera shook itself, annoyed by the dust, and continued its patrol.