Tiamat closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. The aura around her boiled, oscillating like the tides of a sea about to swallow the land. The runes on her skin began to glow in cold, menacing tones.
"Strax," her voice came out calm, but there was a sharp edge to it, 'we love you. But either let go of that thing now... or we'll fight.'
Beside her, Ouroboros was about to explode. His fists were clenched so tightly that the sound of grinding bones echoed through the hall. Magic leaked from his eyes, his mouth, his veins.
"I'd rather see you bleeding than with that parasite attached to your wrist. It will try to corrupt you, swallow your soul, dominate your will. And you know it."
The sword let out a theatrical laugh, sharp and provocative, ringing like war bells. "What a lovely scene. Jealousy between wives always amuses me. But let's face it, it's not my fault he chose me."
