For a moment, it seemed as though the battle might be over.
But then something impossible happened.
The severed arm began to regenerate.
New flesh grew from the stump at terrifying speed, bone and muscle and skin knitting themselves together in seconds.
Within moments, Cornelia's arm was whole again, as if it had never been damaged at all.
And when she smiled, her teeth were no longer human.
"You…are…" Odessa started to doubt her identity.
And the next second, they were fangs, white as bone and sharp as needles, designed for tearing flesh and drinking blood. Her eyes blazed with an inner fire that was older than civilization itself, and her skin took on a pale luminescence that spoke of things that hunted in the darkness between worlds.
"Now you see," Cornelia whispered, her voice carrying new harmonics that made the very stones of the castle tremble.
"I am not some mere witch playing with shadows. I am highborn of the North Isles."
