Ashtarya stood frozen, her grip on Rin's throat loosened slightly. Her green eyes narrowed in primal, instinctual fear.
The little girl did not move. Her silver hair was flowing in a wind that did not exist, and her red eyes held a cold disgust and rage.
"How… how are you here?" Ashtera stammered. The ancient self-proclaimed goddess trembled at the sight of Erin's true form.
Erin tilted her head by a fraction. Her eyes drifted from Ashtarya's face to the hand still clamped around Rin's neck.
"I said," Erin repeated in a chillingly calm tone, "don't touch my mother."
She flicked her hand casually, and Rin fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air, wrapping her hand on her bruised neck.
Ashtarya's eyes widened as she saw her forearm separate from her elbow. There was no blood; the flesh and bone were instantly vaporized, the stump glowing with a faint, holy light. The severed hand fell to the dust, crumbling into ash before it hit the ground.
