The last talisman hanging from his chain ignited in a violent flare.
The glow ruptured, and from its core erupted a torrent of liquid that looked disturbingly like blood. It surged outward in a sudden flood, splashing across his body and enveloping him entirely.
The arrow meant for his skull struck the crimson veil mid-flight, the impact ringing with a sharp clang as though it had struck steel rather than flesh or air.
The substance clung to him, wrapping tighter and tighter, pressing inward with suffocating force. Amon's scream tore through the clearing, raw and ragged, echoing off the cavern walls as though something inside him was being ripped apart. His knees buckled, and he collapsed forward, clawing at his own chest while the red mass constricted around him, veins of it threading into his skin.
The goblins faltered, their expressions tightening with a mix of fear and unease.
