Still skewered off the ground on the assassin's arm, Calyx suddenly vomited a spray of blood that splattered several meters away. It was black. Thick. Viscous.
Like sap.
"There's nothing human left in you anymore," Hephais commented flatly, like he was discussing the weather.
"AAAAAAARRRGGHH—let me go, you bastard!" Calyx shrieked, writhing as best he could despite the arm punched through his torso. "You have no idea who you're messing with! Zhyr'Kaal is destined to devour this world, and you'd better convert while you still can!"
Any trace of the cold, calculating composure one might have expected from the traitor had completely vanished. What remained was a mentally unstable megalomaniac, hysterical and half-broken already.
No wonder Anthace had chosen him, out of everyone in the Radiant Conclave, to manipulate.
"Zhyr'Kaal?" Hephais repeated, one wary eyebrow lifting beneath his hood. It was the first time he'd ever heard that name.
