I stared at the hand in my grip, mostly because it was still moving. The fingers twitched, the talons flexed, and the black blood that dripped from the severed wrist hissed and smoked where it touched the stone. The god's hand was alive, even separated from its body, and it was trying to claw its way free of my grasp.
"Ugh… that's disgusting."
I tightened my grip, pouring lightning out of my palm, and crushed the thing, and I let it fall to the ground and looked up.
The cavern was in chaos. The ceiling had partially collapsed from the impact, and massive slabs of stone were still raining down. The soldiers who had survived the warband and the shockwaves from our fight were screaming, but their voices were ending, as no mortal could survive here.
I flinched from a particularly pained scream and looked at the crystal in my hand that was blinking. It seemed to be drinking the souls of the dead. What in the world was this thing?
