"I don't know—" the shopkeeper began, but before he could finish his lie, an arrow made of shadows whistled through the air and tore deep into his shoulder.
He let out a guttural cry as the force of the impact sent him stumbling back into the wall. Blood splattered across the wooden floor, blooming dark and fast. The elf clutched his wound, his trembling hands slick with crimson.
Edward's eyes flicked toward the shadowy figure standing behind him—the newly summoned Shadow Archer, its form half-faded into the gloom. He hadn't meant for the strike to hit that hard, but it being the first time he used it, he didn't know what to expect. With a dismissive wave, the archer dissolved into mist.
"You won't last long unless you get healed," Edward said calmly, voice cutting through the man's panic. "Now's your chance to make that happen."
