Aeloria stumbled, her own blood trailing from her, in glowing strands that refused to fall to the ground properly. Every drop scorched a hole through the reality that was already being unraveled before her eyes, and her own form flickered, becoming more ghostly with every step. Her hunters were still on her trail, though she had put enough distance between herself and the Loom for now. It was enough.
She laughed at the sound of her own voice, sharp and short. "Hide first," she told herself mockingly. "Make a hole in the dark and crawl inside it. It'll be easier on you this way. Should have thought of it when they were ripping your gardens to shreds."
She pushed what was left of her authority out, tearing a hole in a place that had not yet been claimed, and pulled herself inside the raw power that had spilled from her command. She sealed the wound behind her, using every trick she had left, and fell to her knees.
