The wolves came first.
Twenty-one of them, their eyes gleaming with hunger, their muscles coiled and ready. They moved as one, a wave of fur and fangs and fury, their paws pounding against the forest floor, their breath forming clouds in the cold night air. Behind them, the demons followed, their claws extended, their auras pulsing with dark energy.
Sara stood alone in the center of the clearing, her blood sword still raised, her eyes blazing with cold fury.
She did not wait for them to reach her.
She raised her free hand, her fingers spread wide, and the air around her began to shimmer. Blood erupted from her palm, not in a stream, not in a torrent, but in six separate strands, each one twisting and shaping itself into a massive hand. The hands were larger than any human limb, their fingers long and clawed, their surfaces gleaming like polished crimson crystal.
"Blood Art: Unseen Hand."
The hands shot forward.
