He changed the flow of Essence, pointed it at the man’s blood. Heated it. A little at first, then more, until he could feel it boiling. The priest screamed properly this time. Prolonged cries of pain, gut-wrenching screams of agony. Davian watched impassively, feeling nothing. Not satisfaction. Not sorrow. This was not revenge. This was justice, plain and simple. Ensuring he still fed enough Essence into the man to keep him conscious, he turned another sliver of energy into a razor, thin and sharp. With one flick of the wrist, he castrated him. The priest made no noise now—just lay there, back
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Hoooooly fuck.
