Prologue

The Destroyer

His lithe form raced across the green, the scent his only guide. He entered the tree line his pace never faltering, oblivious to the sharp branches that ripped at his skin before breaking beneath the powerful force.

In one hand he carried an axe, the other was barren but held the secret of a stake fashioned as a switchblade beneath his sleeve. From the scent he knew the axe would be his weapon of choice and continued in pursuit of his prey.

He broke free of his cover, the stench of evil but yards ahead. The prey sensed his presence and turned to do battle with an enigma who masked power beneath agile form. The hunter could have taken him in minutes, but played with his quarry instead. For to end it so quickly would fail to quell the frustration he wished to be rid of.

Finally slaked, he turned, blade at the ready, the woosh of air the only sound before contact. Connor watched as the demon's head hit the ground, bouncing twice before finally stilling, its decapitated body not far behind.