Back-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder, hearts pounding and lungs burning with the aftershock of their battle so far, Lilith and Tierra stood like twin titans staring down an impossible calamity.
Their backs pressed together for support—not just physical, but spiritual—as if they could siphon courage and strength from one another by sheer contact alone.
In front of Tierra, the wounded worm twisted its enormous, pulsating body across the stone floor in agony, its torn flesh writhing like wet rope being squeezed and uncoiled.
A rumbling, guttural screech burst from its body, vibrating the very ground they stood on.
Lilith, facing the opposite direction, was equally focused on the uninjured one, which released a piercing roar of rage and pain; not for itself, but for its injured sibling.
Then something unexpected and disgusting happened.
With a heave that sounded like a slimy burp, the uninjured worm expelled globs of metallic silver liquid from its mouth.
