Ephraim couldn't help but see what happened to him in his mind. He was thrown to the wall and he had coughed blood from the impact. He was about to die—and if it weren't for Dayie, he wouldn't have survived. He was now holding his fiery sword, ready to attack.
"Be careful," Ephraim stared at the one who spoke. A boy who was barefoot and had a silver hair. Ephraim had taken another glance; the boy was semi-translucent. Ephraim could see through him. The boy was talking to Dayie—and was telling her information. Ephraim couldn't help but notice that not everyone could see the boy. Was it only him and Dayie who could see him?
"A scythe from the underworld…" Ephraim murmured as his flames lowered in intensity.
"Yes," Dayie said. "That means our powers will only absorb each other."
"What?"
