But Ben's grin faded the moment he felt it, something was wrong.
CRACKLE!!!
His body moved on instinct. The pickaxe spun in a blur, sweeping low.
Purplish lightning exploded from his own shadow. "What—?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.
From the darkness, serpentine figures rose shimmering specters born of lightning and shadow.
Ben jumped, just as the first slammed into the ground where he'd stood, leaving a crater of scorched stone.
He flipped mid-air, twisting as another come up behind him. His pickaxe swung wide, cleaving through the phantom in one clean motion
More rose.
A dozen shapes, leaping from the pool of his own shadow, lightning tethering them together in arcs that crackle like spiderwebs across the ground.
Ben landed in a crouch, his gaze sharp. He dashed forward, slipping between two charging specters, his pickaxe glowing faintly.
One swung. He ducked.
