I looked down at the unconscious woman draped across my arms, still in disbelief over what I had witnessed.
Seraphina Blackwood had just destroyed a horde of specters—creatures that even we, the immortal guardians, struggled to fight. She had commanded death itself, absorbing their essence before collapsing into this deceptively fragile form.
"Is she breathing normally?" Regina asked, crouching beside me. My sister's throat still bore the marks from where a specter had nearly choked the life out of her.
I nodded, checking Seraphina's pulse again. "Steady but weak. It's like before—she channels that power, then her body shuts down to recover."
Regina's fingers hovered over the dark substance staining Seraphina's hands. "What do you think this is? It's not blood."
"Essence," I muttered. "The very substance of those creatures. She didn't just kill them—she consumed them."
