For nearly five relentless minutes, Liam had been a hurricane of brutality—snapping bones, tearing limbs, digging through flesh, gouging eyes, pulling muscle from bone and plugging new holes into places that weren't meant to bleed. Morenelle's demonic form had been dismantled again and again until it no longer resembled anything born of nature or magic. And Liam—Liam no longer looked human.
His entire body was drenched in dark green gore—viscous, sticky, steaming in the dry wind. From the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, blood clung to him like a second skin. His eyes, once filled with fire, now stared ahead in glassy, mindless madness. Around them, the cracked wasteland had transformed into a gore-soaked crater—a ten-foot radius dyed in green and black. Blood. Bits of bark-flesh. Pieces of bone.
Morenelle was nearly unrecognizable.
