Mirefall. The lab. The "doctor." 'Just what did these people do,' Flora wondered, 'to make a perfectly normal human start shedding its skin like a snake?'
They watched Jack Locke curled up on the ground. The scales below his navel squeezed against each other as a transparent snakeskin peeled off his body, piece by piece, layer by layer.
Jack Locke was like a soulless puppet. His face was devoid of pain, his body free of tension. He looked as if this was completely normal and not at all painful.
And yet, the transparent shed skin was clearly streaked with blood and carried a thick, strange, coppery stench.
Flora Bloom gestured for Cynthia Grant to leave with her. The moment they stepped out of the villa, the oppressive atmosphere was swept away by the fresh outdoor air. Cynthia Grant looked unwell, and Flora Bloom had to take deep breaths herself to suppress the churning in her stomach.
"Flora... is that... still human?"
