“Give me the arm,” Lana said and, unwilling, crawled to Drake.

Drake stood up, shaky but determined. He extended the burned, sawed-off stump.

“I will give you an arm such as no human ever had,” the Darkness said through Lana. “You have no magic within you, human, but the girl will serve.”

Drake moved with surprising speed. He pivoted and yanked Lana up by her hair.

“Take my arm,” he hissed.

She placed her trembling hand against the melted flesh, feeling the fresh-cut bone beneath it, wanting to throw up.

The glow deepened. Lana felt her entire body filled with it, not hot but cold, as cold as ice.

Drake’s flesh was growing.

She could feel it moving beneath her fingers. But it wasn’t human flesh.

Not human flesh at all.

“No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Drake breathed. “Yes.”

[...]

It was Howard, marching up toward them, waving his hands. Behind him came the healer girl, Lana, looking shell-shocked.

And behind them, Drake.

Diana cursed. He was still alive.

And then she saw Drake’s arm.

The burned stump, the remains of the arm she had sawed off while Drake screamed and cried and threatened, had been altered.

It was stretched, like it had been turned into dark, bloodred taffy. It wrapped twice around his body.

Gone, Chapter 38 and 39