The desert burned with madness.
"KILL! KILL! KILL!"
The cultists' voices rose like a tidal wave, a chorus of insanity that drowned out the winds themselves. The night sky bled corruption, the ground quivered with their frenzy.
Luca slumped on the fractured sand, his breath ragged, his body screaming rebellion with every twitch. Saintess lay unconscious in his arms, her pale face pressed to his chest, fragile as porcelain. His blood-stained hands trembled around her, but his eyes—those crimson eyes—never left the woman standing before him.
The naked figure gleamed under the sick moonlight, her lips curled in a predator's grin. Her violet tongue flicked across her mouth, eyes brimming with hunger as she looked at him not as a man but as prey.
Tch. Snake woman. She waited—she let two of her companions die before moving.
