Gwenevere is a child of infinite possibility, and she has five thousand competitors playing her game. For Eliza, Nox, Zola and Bleidd, this means facing down thirteen floors riddled with dragons, cat kingdoms and cabbages. Yet in a world where anyth...
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Nox was certain that he was watching death as she glided towards him with impossible speed, intent on ripping his throat out.
Death, being a tall vampiress with glowing orange eyes and bloodstained teeth.
His lungs refused to operate. "Y-you..."
To his mild surprise, that caused her to halt. "You?" Her eyebrows raised, displaying her annoyance. "My name is not you. You are not about to be slain by the mighty You." She twisted her head to dramatically flip her hair. "I, am Amdraste."
Nox tried to slowly back up, then he froze. Ice shot down his spine. "Amy."
Amdraste only grinned, proudly displaying her fangs. "Hello Jason," she purred, strolling towards him, armored black dress glinting in the light. He couldn't bring himself to move as she pounded, steel hands wrap around his throat. Just like that he was trapped in death's grip, unable to move, struggling to breath. In desperation he gripped her hand with his, trying to pry away her fingers to no avail.
Nox saw a blur of pale skin and red eyes to his left. "No, Amdraste, leave him alone!" Bleiddwyn begged.
The vampiress ignored him, studying Nox, not bothering to close her mouth. Slowly, deliberately, she reached down to her waist where a thin dagger— an assassin's dagger— rested in the sheath attached to a thin belt. The blade smoothly screeched as it was pulled out of its casing, and he caught a glimpse of his own glowing eyes in the blade as she brought it up to his face.
"No! Stop it!" Again the omega protested. The small boy threw himself against Amdraste in an attempt to knock her over— but the vampiress merely jerked the arm with which she held the dagger to the effect of ramming her elbow into the poor kid's chest, blowing him to the ground.
With Bleidd on the ground, Amdraste had nothing to stop her from bringing the knife back to his throat.
"Hey," he protested, "I thought you said you wanted my help? How can I help you if I'm dead! You promised--"
"Be quiet or this will be a lot messier."
There was nothing more chilling than feeling the cold steel against his skin.
He prepared himself for the worst, squeezing his eyes shut.
Pain flashed across his neck.
But... Not that much.
Cautiously, he opened one eye, then the other. It didn't feel like he'd just had his throat cut open.
His attention fell on the dagger. A mere couple drops of purplish red blood graced the very tip of the otherwise pristine blade.
He then watched as she brought the tip of the blade to her tongue.
