[The echo of the scream is still reverberating when that pair of gleaming yellow eyes reappears, looking down (or up?) upon Octavian's attempt to steady himself in the ever-moving space. There's intent in them now, fixated on the ghost. Its unsteady outline sweeps off of it like a flickering cape and a pair of horns.
The voices proclaim their judgment:]
Your time has long passed, phantom.
[This entity, whoever or whatever it is now, will not have any trouble grasping Octavian should it get its claws into him—and it reaches for him now. Breaking souls into pieces is one of its many abilities.]
no subject
The voices proclaim their judgment:]
Your time has long passed, phantom.
[This entity, whoever or whatever it is now, will not have any trouble grasping Octavian should it get its claws into him—and it reaches for him now. Breaking souls into pieces is one of its many abilities.]