Someone stepped out from the shadows. The woman with bare feet, raven black hair, sunburnt skin, and… black eyes…
“What?” Susanna asked.
Once under the harsh light of a torch, he made out her noiseless pleas. The same words repeated over and over: Dites… non?
“Why would you refuse?” Susanna replied.
Until now, it never occurred to him that he could choose. Drusilla was too busy making a mockery of things to even ask for consent… I’m not, that’s what the woman in white is saying over and over…
“Drusilla is the only other person here…” Susanna said.
In the background, tendrils came out from the mirror surface of the well. They appeared to be fashioned from blood, albeit congealed or, more appropriately, coagulated. They grew longer and thinner before wrapping themselves into a bundle approximating the human form.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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