"The beasts choose a guardian. Not to hunt. To become."
She was listening.
She wasn't running.
She looked down. The mud was churning. Something massive was moving beneath the topsoil. Roots the size of pythons slithered past her boots. Then she saw it—a stone torii gate, half-swallowed by the earth, emerging as the ground split apart. Lara Croft- Island Of The Sacred Beasts - 3DCG-...
The arrow flew in a slow-motion arc, rain beading on its carbon shaft, and punched through the rifle's receiver. The weapon sparked and died. The mercenary stared at his ruined gun, then at her.
Lara reached for the mirror. Her fingers touched the glass.
It was reflecting possibilities . In the glass, she saw herself—older, scarred, kneeling before a throne made of antlers. A crown of thorns and circuitry was being lowered onto her head. A voice, ancient and androgynous, whispered from the walls: "The beasts choose a guardian
She was no longer in the cavern. She was standing on the back of a creature the size of an aircraft carrier—the Great Stag, its single eye a swirling galaxy of blue fire. The island raced below her, a blur of jungle and ruin. The mercenaries on the beach looked like ants.
The world shattered.
The beast roared. Not in rage. In greeting . She wasn't running
The rain hit the jungle canopy like shrapnel. Each drop was rendered in hyper-realistic 3DCG, catching bioluminescent spores kicked up by the storm. Lara Croft knelt in the mud, her tank top plastered to her skin, the dual holsters at her thighs heavy with the weight of her HK USP matches.
"Where is the shrine?" Lara's voice was low, a gravelly whisper over the storm.