Liora never showed her concerns anyway…
Her grandmother had taught her well. Never panic, never show weakness.
Even when hurt… especially when hurt, project control.
But this time there was a better reason for that confidence.
The roots that seemed to be absorbing energy from the Bashe withered after a relatively brief period of activity.
The spiritual miasma the serpent constantly emanated wasn't simply an aesthetic aura but an active armor and weapon that corroded life itself. Plant life attempting to parasitize it was no exception.
The roots dried and died, green turning brown turning black turning to ash. And the stake itself began to be absorbed bit by bit into the serpent's skin as the Bashe reversed the drainage process.
What had been taking became giving. What had been a weapon became food.
