Noa retrieved the blood-slick wooden shard he had discarded and crept toward Mira's back. She stood with both palms directed at Bren, maintaining the golden barrier that still enveloped him. The mana field around her thrummed so thick that even the softest footfall was swallowed; Noa moved like living shadow.
Two meters.
One meter.
Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
This distance was the breath of death itself. The yellow mana of her barrier hummed faintly, a gentle vrrr.
Noa reached out and tapped her shoulder twice, almost playfully.
Tap. Tap.
Mira spun around, irritation flashing across her face, only for every drop of color to drain away when she saw the child standing behind her. Her eyes widened in pure horror; her lips trembled.
Noa offered a pitch-black smile and drove the jagged stake straight into the front of her throat.
Fshhhhhhh!
