The man closed his eyes. Even if he died in her hands, he would not mind it. He deserved death for his acts. For years, he had thought about his actions. In the start, he had blamed the girl but slowly, he had realised how wrong they were!
Liliana began chanting in an ancient tongue, one that hadn't been used in centuries except by high coven healers. The glow from the bowl spread in threads of light, snaking along the floor and crawling up the man's arms. The cloth wrapped around him began to tremble.
Olivia watched as the man's fingers curled into claws of agony, and his body shook violently. Liliana's eyes never left him.
She reached for a vial of pale blue liquid from her belt and uncorked it. Carefully, she poured it over the man's chest. The moment it touched his skin, the scarring began to shimmer, then peel away like cracked paint under light.
A raw and guttural scream burst from his mouth. Olivia nearly dropped the candle with the force of it.
