“Oh, come on, love. Don’t be so coy,” Lorn cooed nearby at a soldier who quaked by her feet, a smile curving her painted mouth. “Let me have a look at those pretty eyes of yours.” She grabbed his face, digging her nails into his skin, letting little black offshoots slither into the gaping, screaming cave that was his mouth. This, she enjoyed best—letting her shadows burrow through the cavities in his skull. They clogged his nose, tied up his throat, infested his brain until, with a squelch and a blood-curdling scream, they wiggled out from around his eyeballs. Pop went the first, then the
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ouch 😬😬
