“SHATTERED” in italiano

Waist deep in the shallows was the Drowned King himself, a behemoth composed of rotten corpses and shattered sea wrack.

The crystal was still shattered.

When he was done, he picked his way back out of the shattered tower, through the litter-strewn ruins between cracked and crazed walls of enchanted Taiytakei gold-glass, boots crunching on a carpet of broken glittering shards.

The end of the gully looked to be the site of small avalanche, shattered rock blocking the way forward and covering several of the Dark Kind.

A glass orb, the size of grape, shattered on the floor, and a billow of thick, green mist boiled up from it.

The skull had been shattered like the shell of a nut and the brains had been scooped out.

’Tuuran hunched up against the broken stone wall and watched, pieces of shattered gold-glass all around him.

Not shattered or smashed or burned or transformed or destroyed but annihilated, every piece of history and future taken away.

His restraint shattered.

The Dark Kind the rangers hunted in the wilderness were the remnants and children of those shattered forces from long ago.

Then, the crystal shattered.