Beneath the Elder's House
Inside his mind, Diana waited.
"A bit of blood," she repeated softly.
Victor didn't hesitate.
"It doesn't matter. Just do it."
A flicker ran through the serpent ink coiled around his forearm. Red streaks under his skin glowed sharper, tendrils of radiance creeping out as if fed by breath below dermis.
Then -
Out of the ink came tiny spikes, fine as needles. Not made of metal, these. Formed instead from packed mana, slender and exact, catching dim light under shadowed air.
Clara stiffened.
Lane's gaze tightened just a bit, yet she held her ground. Stillness stayed in her stance, even as tension curled around the moment.
Felt first - cold pricks crawling down his arm. Steel slipped past flesh, no warning given. Skin gave way under sharp pressure, one after another. A quiet breach, nothing softened. Each puncture arrived like a held breath finally released.
No dramatic reaction.
No flinch.
