The smell of sulfur and hot metal poured out, the presence of hellish magic searing through Kristof. Lass? hissed, fangs bared and eyes glowing. "Demon!" He detached the horn at his waist and threw it to Kristof, then dismounted and went to the pond. Dropping to his knees at the edge of it, he splayed his hands on the ice and poured out magic, chanting the words of a spell. The magic glowed hell red, covering the pond like spilled ink as it rushed toward the crack.
Kristof blew the horn, one long blast that signaled distress, then drew his own sword and gathered his magic. A Prince of the Blood could fight a demon fire to fire, but nothing hurt a demon like holy might.
A pale, bony hand the size of Kristof's head crawled out of the crack in the ice, three long, black fingers tipped in jagged, yellow claws. The hand drew back as it collided with Lass?'s magic, but only a moment later two hands emerged instead.