It was grotesque.
Blood dripped out of her eyes to the floor in steady, sluggish drops that splashed onto the polished stone, staining it like ink across parchment. It wasn't normal bleeding. It was thick, dark—almost black—and the way it oozed from her like a weeping wound made it clear that she was in hell-defying pain.
Pain so deep it pulled inhuman, gurgling sounds out of her throat—sounds no servant, no woman, no person should ever be able to make.
Her body convulsed transforming , her ribs flexing unnaturally beneath her skin. Her form twitched and jerked, caught between something human and something not. Her eyes were dark, like pits of pure shadow, but her skin…her skin was even darker now. Hardened, coarse like stone left out in fire and ash.
Worse.
