Hector- Limits

Hector’s black hand flew out, the vile seizing its moment. Quick as a snake, it coiled around Bethwyn’s throat, the Ugri recoiling as the girl’s hands went to her neck, clawing at the invisible phantom.

Hector shook his head, his vision blurring. What was happening? Why was he in pain? Where was he? He lurched up, his left side seeming to crumple, sending him back onto one knee in the snow. The metallic taste of blood was thick in his mouth, coating his gullet. He staggered to his feet between the Ugri, jeweled dagger in hand.

Bethwyn spun on her toes, doing a grisly dance in the snow, Vincent’s phantom attacking her indiscriminately, her audience the warriors of Tuskun. Manfred reached up, trying to help her, but two mace blows sent him down to the ice. Hector could see the vile, working its wicked magic, a thin black noose of smoke constricting the throat of the girl he’d once fancied. He raised his hand to call it back, trying to concentrate, but his mind was still fogged with pain, leaving him unable to master the demon.

B5 P4 C6