(Dorian's Perspective)
Across her svelte body of creamy white skin nearly as beautiful as Sandy's, the Rényú queen holds her recently fashioned staff in the crook of both elbows. Her slender arms lift as I watch, her delicate-fingered hands moving gracefully into a slow clap.
"Well done!" she congratulates in a ringing siren voice that sets my charm banging about frantically. Ceasing her clap, she clasps her hands together in greedy delight.
Behind us, the sounds of battling Weres diminish as the Rényú horde obey her undetectable signal, releasing their captives except for Ian and Silas. Swiftly, they form a bendy, net-like barrier that reminds me a great deal of birdsnest coral across the end of the hall, cutting off any hope of escape past their entwined limbs and millions of tube feet suckers.
