E e l

They fanned out, the man and one of the women moving to each side of the stairs; the third came up the middle, axe weaving a hypnotic pattern in the air.

Jace threw a writhing, razor-finned eel in her face.

It wasn’t real, but against an untrained mind, its phantasmal nature made no difference; fear was fear, and pain was most assuredly pain.

She screamed and fell back, thrashing at the phantasm and just about braining herself with her own axe in the process.

***

Agents of Artifice, Chapter 11