Fast.
It raced down and tore a hole into the delicate flesh. A red flower bloomed and laid it seeds onto the ground, slowly dripping and running down the sides of the pale and thin arm.
The sharp tip of the blade stirred inside the hole and moved to the right threatening to sever the veins, nerves and bone.
"Hurry up," Third said, "The arm belongs to me!"
A nauseous, suffocating cloud welled up inside Lia and her teary eyes drowned the scene before her. The agony of having her arm about to cut off was too numbing to even recognise anything else.
Losing an arm through an ordinary weapon wasn't harming to an immortal. After all, the limbs would grow back and any scars healed on their own, however, pain was still vibrantly felt.
Misty fog and vibrating steps enveloped the space of the house and poured through the windows and the open front entrance. The blood puddle ran along the ground, carrying a path of unforgiveness and no return.
