Hector- Snap

Hector shook his head from side to side. “I swear, why does it always have to end this way?” he said in a tired and irritated voice. He lifted his left hand and opened his palm.

Instantly the innkeeper was spluttering as he struggled with the invisible force tangled around his throat. Hector tightened his grip in the air, watching his brother’s vile twist around the neck of the innkeeper like a deadly black noose.

“You had every chance of doing a nice bit of business with me tonight and walking away with your life. Three barrels of brandy, that’s all I asked for. We had a deal; we shook on it. I distinctly recall shaking on it, don’t you?”

The man collapsed to his knees, eyes bulging as his fingernails clawed at his fat throat, tearing the skin away in strips.

“Greed, sir; a terrible, ugly thing, I’m sure you’ll agree. I’d love to say it was pleasant doing business with you, but…”

Hector clenched his fist tight, mind focused solely on the vile as he saw the phantom’s attack through to its grisly end. Whereas previously, back in Highcliff, his control over the vile had been sporadic, inspired by surging emotions, since his encounter with the host on the White Isle he had a deeper understanding of his abilities. He yanked his hand back through the air, as if tugging a rope. The innkeeper’s throat made a wet snapping sound before he fell to the floor, neck broken.

B3 P5 C4