A wet, squelching sound fell from the sky.
The pitch-black monster now looked like a small tornado whose barbs had converged, touching down perfectly and gently. Its body writhed and twisted, finally gradually taking on a human shape.
Louis had never liked becoming a solid, inky form to attack or do anything else, because every time he did that, he had to mold a new face for himself to hide his true features. But things had come this far — it no longer seemed to matter what his face looked like.
Aboli had vanished, Sylus was in power and scheming who knew what, and the plot had been twisted so badly even its own mother wouldn't recognize it.
The monster's jet-black body gradually took shape: a pair of sea-blue eyes flashing in the dark like the rarest gem, a straight, high nose, plum-colored lips pressed together, and hair slightly tousled by the wind.
