Serena's eyes flashed pink. She wiggled out of Fin's arms, who was absolutely unprepared for Possessed Serena.
One second he was holding her and the next second she was gone, her body twisting free with a strength and fluidity that Regular Serena did not possess, the ancestors lending her muscles that didn't technically exist and whose lending was producing a Serena-shaped projectile aimed directly at the serpent.
She stepped in front of the group.
"Serena, stop—" Fin tried to grab her—
Too late. Too late was becoming the official motto of this mission. Too late should have been printed on their thermal weave suits. Too late should have been embroidered on Serena's quiver.
Too late was the two-word summary of every interaction between Serena Frostborne and the concept of personal safety.
The serpent struck, but its head hit something invisible. Ancient runes beneath the cracked stone suddenly blazed to life, golden, bright, pulsing. The runes had been dormant.
