Azrael turned to the remaining witches and mages, his expression cold and unmerciful . "Now, who wants to go next?"
The crowd recoiled, fear evident in their eyes. They had come expecting to make the Fae pay, but what they had witnessed was something far beyond their expectations. The brutal, efficient manner in which Azreal had murdered their leader had left them frozen in place, their courage shattered.
Azrael made his presence loom larger, his aura more intimidating than ever. And it was working. He watched the witches and mages exchange fearful glances, none daring to step forward or even speak. The threat was clear: any further defiance would meet the same grisly end.
The moment Azrael saw the witches begin to retreat, he thought he had won. He was wrong. Just as he allowed himself to relax, the witches stopped, their fear transforming into a fierce resolve. They moved as one, stretching out their hands and releasing a barrage of magical spells.
