Stabs

This woman could be some sort of image, some delusion, or a ghost. But in
the end it doesn’t matter. Because with my Eyes, even gods can die.

My left hand grabs the air like a rope, and I pull back. The woman and the other girls are pulled towards me, like a fisherman plucking a good catch.

The woman’s expression changes. She tries her last, vain hope of controlling me, trying her best to put as much power into her suggestion.
FALL!
And again, I disregard it completely. With all the firmness in my voice I can muster, I answer her back.
“You fall.”
As she comes toward me, I plunge the knife deep into her chest, as naturally as I do stabbing a fruit, and so exquisitely performed that it gives even the victim pause for admiration. The knife runs from front to back, clean through her.

She doesn’t bleed. Unable to move from the shock of being stabbed
straight through, she convulses just once. With only a nudge and a slight
movement of my right arm, I fling away the useless “corpse”, and the incorporeal body slips through the fence without a sound into the shining city below. Her hair still lies motionless, and her dress embraces the darkness, a white flower sinking to the bottom of the ocean. And with that, I depart from the roof, the ghosts still floating in the air behind me.

Part 1, page 27 and 28