The Reaper's scythe descended, a gleaming arc of obsidian mist slicing through the midnight air.
Schlkk—
Lila's head parted from her shoulders with a sickening, clean cut, her body collapsing in a lifeless heap a heartbeat later.
Her severed head bounced once—twice—then rolled into a shallow oil puddle at the edge of the shattered street, black liquid rippling outward, swallowing the moonlight.
Her face, frozen in an unreadable calm, stared upward, her black eyes dull, lifeless, reflecting the fractured sky.
No blood spilled.
Only thick, inky fluid oozed from the stump of her neck, shadowstuff pooling like tar, not human, a chilling reminder of her true nature.
Tila's breath stopped, her world fracturing.
Her fingers trembled, her legs buckled, her black eyes locked on her sister's head—her twin, her other half, her soul.
