“You took my village,” she said softly. “You skinned my father. You told me that suffering was the only truth.”
His Incubi struck. Their klaives passed through the mimics like smoke. But the mimics’ own blades cut flesh. In three heartbeats, Vhane’s elite lay bleeding on the floor, killed by reflections of their master’s fury. octokuro drukhari
Octokuro closed its petal-maw. The portal vanished. The mimics crumbled into piles of shed eyelenses—eight opal spheres that rolled across the blood-slick floor. “You took my village,” she said softly
Octokuro had stopped rotating its eyes.