My sword cut through the darkness wearing a child's mask.
That sounded poetic, but unfortunately, it was also literal.
The golden arc of aura tore across the old chamber with enough force to split the damp air. The creature shrieked as the blade met its body, not with the resistance of flesh, nor the brittle crack of bone, but with something far more unpleasant.
It felt like cutting through wet parchment stuffed with unidentifiable things.
It felt disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.
Whoever designed this thing deserved condemnation for the offensive texture alone.
The creature's upper body split from shoulder to waist, spilling not blood but black water. It splattered across the stone floor, hissing the moment it touched my aura. Several voices burst from the liquid, layered and overlapping until the chamber seemed filled with children calling from the bottom of a well.
It was utterly unsettling.
"Mother."
"Brother."
"It hurts."
"Where is the door?"
"Do not answer."
