Kelly walked away from the corpse, the sword in her hands dissolving into purple sparks. She moved toward Elyndra's chained-up figure above the stone slab, her eyes tracing the girl's bleeding, chubby face and the green hair clumped with blood, hanging in thick, sticky strands over her cheeks.
The little girl was still unconscious, her chest rising and falling steadily. At least that was something.
Kelly stared at the chains binding Elyndra, uneasy. She grabbed them skeptically, testing their strength before wrenching them apart.
The metal snapped in her hands.
Right. Her strength had already grown past anything human. Metal felt like paper now.
Kelly caught Elyndra before she could fall, lifting her onto her shoulders. She took one last look around the room—the shattered glass littering the floor, the active burners, the simmering bottles of glowing liquid, and the sharp metallic stench of blood.
