Revas' hand looked like something out of a science experiment.
Three days had gone by since the incident with the High Inquisitor. The flesh had healed, but it wasn't the pale, marble perfection it used to be. Now, the skin on his right hand was a dark, see-through grey, like smoked glass, showing the black bones and veins of liquid fire underneath.
"It itches," Revas said, scratching his dark knuckles with a silver fork. "It feels like ants are crawling inside my bones."
"It looks... impressive," Mirabelle said as she fastened her cloak. "Like a gauntlet made of shadow."
"I guess so," Revas sighed, flexing his fingers. His joints cracked like breaking obsidian. "But it ruins my symmetry. Now I have to wear gloves to formal events, or people will think I have a skin condition."
A frantic pounding on the door cut off his self-absorption.
