rot his hands from his wrists, making the skin wither, the muscles melt, both limbs falling off to the ground. He screams in pain and tries to grapple at my hold, but his feet can’t touch the ground, and he can no longer call up his power at the snap of his fingers. I seethe into his face with bared teeth and dark hostility. Within my shaking, wrathful hold, his skin molders and greens, peeling away in painful strips. His teeth go black. His one good eye widens in fear as black veins leach into the white. I fucking told him. He was done. He was dead.
Ok ok
