"You asked for it, dearest Luna," He growled with sarcasm as he threw the burning torch in his hands at her body. But something else followed...
The glint in Aria's eyes didn't subside, and he writhed in pain, pulling his pawns steps back.
"Burn her!" He yelled at them, despite the fact that he was writhing in a different type of burning pain.
"Don't do it, you'll have yourselves to regret," Aria warned, but they didn't listen, they did it still—and that was their first mistake.
The second torch flew through the air, spinning end over end.
But before it could reach her, the wind shifted—sharp, sudden, unnatural. It snuffed the flame midair like it had never existed.
Then came the silence... Not the kind that falls gently over a battlefield, but the kind that suffocates. That presses into your chest. That makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise.
Aria didn't move, she didn't have to.
