My friend hung in her chains like a broken bird. Blood traced delicate lines down her porcelain cheek from where Malachi had struck her. Her slight frame trembled, whether from cold or fear, I couldn't tell. But when those shadows turned toward her, when those dark tendrils began reaching across the space between them, her blue eyes went wide with terror.
"No! Not her! Leave her alone!" I threw myself against the walls of my prison, clawing at darkness with hands that didn't exist. "She's my friend! Do not dare touch her! She's—"
The shadows wrapped around Freya's throat like a lover's embrace. Gentle at first. Almost tender.
Then they squeezed.
Freya's feet kicked uselessly, hands clawing at smoke that wouldn't yield. Her face reddened, then purpled, eyes bulging as her mouth worked soundlessly for air that wouldn't come.
