But then came Espel, swooping down to the field with her butterfly wings.
She marched towards the threat and pushed both arms forward. Her wingblades flew from her open palms, dashed through the air and slashed against the harsh red back of the Demon Head.
Each cut was small and superficial at first, but the entropy magic activated instantly.
The flesh around each wound began to blacken and crumble. The decay spread outward in ugly, creeping spirals, eating through his hide, his muscle, the outer edges of his corrupted soul.
"Aarrrrghhhh!!" Braavas wailed in pain.
He stumbled. He clawed at his back, trying to stop the pain. But it was impossible. The entropy was spreading fast, and Braavas could feel his own skin peel away from his bone.
He turned with vehemence.
Espel stood at the edge of the crater, her hands raised, more wingblades pouring from her palms.
Braavas tilted his head at her. "Who are you people?"
Espel said nothing.
