CHAPTER 38
Clara's declaration hung in the air like a death sentence. She lifted her hand a small smirk appearing on her face as her fingers curled, nails digging into her palm as she drew in a sharp breath and reached for the familiar pull of magic.
She was trying to shift, to vanish into the safety of the ethereal plane as she had done a thousand times before.
But instead of the familiar ripple of space, Clara's body jerked violently. She doubled over, a terrifying, wet fluid tearing from her lungs as she vomited a spray of bright, hot blood onto the floor.
It mixed with the obsidian water, swirling into a sickening sludge.
"My magic..." For the first time since Isabella had met her, Clara's composure cracked. Panic flared in her eyes as she suddenly snapped her fingers, her lips moving in a frantic, silent incantation
Clara wheezed, her hands clawing at the rug as it failed again, her white eyes were wide with a new, hollow kind of terror.
