Gavriel was murdering the same goddamn skeleton for the fourth time and the skeleton was acting like it had a lifetime membership to the "fuck you, I get back up" club. Either the fucker was deaf, pure stubborn, or running on some ancient fuck-up warranty that covered unlimited reassembly.
"Shit!"
He fought like a beast to reach her, muscles straining, magic flaring, but they kept reforming.
The corridor was a fucking factory and the factory's product was "things between Gavriel and Serena" and the production rate was exceeding his ability to destroy.
The runes overhead flared violently. Sections of stone lit in pulsing slabs of light, and suddenly they weren't looking at carvings anymore.
They were looking at echoes of the dead. Moments of dying replaying themselves in the walls like projections burned into reality.
