Valeria stood motionless on the deck of the small fishing boat, her dark robe fluttering slightly in the cold wind. The chaos she had unleashed on the patrol boat was still unfolding before her, but she watched with cold, detached amusement. The soldiers who had once been strong and determined now lay lifeless, their bodies strewn across the deck, victims of her dark magic.
She smiled—a cruel, satisfied smile—as she flicked her fingers, and from the mouths of the dead soldiers, pale, ghostly wisps began to rise. Their souls, still clinging to their mortal forms, were drawn towards her, helpless against her power. With every flick of her fingers, more souls emerged, twisting and writhing in the air as if resisting, but they could not escape her pull.
