Much to my surprise, a blue flame licks out of the crack of the door, the small wisp dances to its own haunted rhythm before receding.
The flame is low to the ground, and barely discernable.
It is a blessed flame, I can tell.
Utaum steps forward, taking out a thin gold and silver wand.
The man said the threat level was high, and these soulless attack on sight, I shrug and get ready to adapt.
I feel the familiar feeling of death rise, looking up I see Ijora steadily gliding down, radiating energy as he does.
The thin man walks towards the crack in the door with his goatee raised high.
Milk is munching on something with a smirk.
"First time"?
I raise an eyebrow at his question.
"For what"?
He raises both eyebrows at my question.
"Behind the gates of Hel".
I roll my eyes, if only he knew.
This kid needs to relieve some stress, all that pent up aggression isn't healthy for him.
