The skeletal hand that shot out of the darkness groped the air blindly, but went no further, as if trapped in or reliant on the darkness surrounding it. Ikaris and the others breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.
The skeletal hand slid to the floor, its gaunt fingers rasping against the wooden frame of the entrance. As it bumped against the floor, the hand flip-flopped horizontally, its fingers curled slightly like a five-legged spider, and the tip of its index finger scratched against the rune carved into the wood by the teenager.
A chill of fright ran down Ikaris' spine and without thinking he stifled his fear and lurched toward the entrance, bringing his sword down on the hand with all his might. The skeletal hand was chopped off cleanly and froze in place.
