"Leave that child alone," he heard his mother warn those angels.
"This child's mother's folly had put her in this situation. It was her who brought this fate to her own child. Blame her mother, not us."
"You would have killed her anyway," Evanthe retorted.
"Wasn't dying in the hand of our goddess a better option for that child than suffering as a vessel? Death will come to her. Let her enter reincarnation early to wash away the sins she and her mother bear. Do not prolong her suffering. It's her destiny."
"You are not worthy of deciding her destiny."
Petra laughed. "Then, lowly witches like you are worthy?"
The angel did not even have to pluck a string of her harp. All she did was raise a finger in their direction, and Evanthe felt suffocation she had never felt before. It was as if the world itself was compressing around her body, and she could only choke at its weight.
