The eyes hovered above the half-elf's sleeping form, their inky slits widening with predatory anticipation. The essence radiating from him was so intoxicating that it could barely hold back.
But then, the eyes contracted sharply.
This close, the truth was undeniable: the half-elf before it wasn't flesh and blood, but a phantom, a mirror of its own ephemeral nature.
Something was deeply wrong.
But before the entity could react, the sleeping figure's eyes snapped open.
And then, he grinned.
Wide. Wild. Knowing.
"Too late for that."
The eyes recoiled, instinct screaming at them to flee. But before they could so much as twitch—
Whoosh.
Silver-blue flames erupted from within the entity itself.
Agony.
Pure, searing agony lanced through its form, a pain it had never known possible. The fire burned not flesh, not matter, but its very existence. It writhed, a silent scream tearing through its essence as the flames consumed it in seconds.
Five heartbeats passed.
