Behind the dense barrier of trees lay a circular space of cropped grass. At its center, Nora—the green-skinned necromancer—danced in strange patterns as though performing a sacred ritual, her body twisting and stretching expertly under the dim glow of the moon.
"Just as planned," Natasha whispered, peering at Nora.
But what plan could they have devised that would truly bring down a necromancy user double-infused with Hadas blood?
"Didn't practice, but here goes nothing," Natasha murmured, her heart pounding under the crushing pressure radiating from Nora, heavy in the wind itself.
Let's devour this bitch from the inside, Natasha thought. Then, in the blink of an eye, she fell to the ground, crumbling into nothing but thick yellow liquid—the color of her skin.
She didn't crawl toward Nora. Instead, she loosened the bonds of the liquid she had willingly melted into. And of course, breaking bonds meant losing heat.
