Lian's eyes flustered opened, as the morning sun rays shine on his face through the half opened curtains of the motel room. He blinked, groggily turning his head on the crumpled bed, seeing it empty. The lingering warmth was the only proof he hadn't imagined the night before.
"...?!"
Feeling a sudden, intense pressure bearing down on him—a pressure so dense it felt like gravity had localized in the room—Lian snapped his head to the only sofa in the bedroom. He was utterly stunned, staring at Red Thorn, who sat perfectly still. A long red sword was resting on her laps, the crimson blade glowing like death. It pulsed with an eerie, rhythmic heartbeat that seemed to suck the light out of the room.
