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An animated skeleton is a body without a soul, capable of movement on account of a necromancer’s will, and in her time as a shrine maiden Miko had encountered numerous entities where the opposite was true: hollowed-out souls drifting about without bodies, devouring whatever other spiritual entities they came across. What happens when one such disembodied spirit is bound to a corpse used as a necromancer’s familiar, is the creation of a wight. And the fell spirits of the five wights under Rusalka’s command were by far the most hideous and powerful that Miko had ever seen.
“You’re so cute when you’re scared, little Miko.” Rusalka suddenly cooed from behind the girl. Pacing around, the vampire continued with a gleeful smirk, “I just need another quick peek at your face to lift my spirits from all that boring spellcasting.”
<span class="mu-i"> “Don’t act up, it’ll just encourage her. She’ll get bored and go away soon.” </span> The girl thought to herself as she put a disinterested expression onto her face and tried to suppress her ability to see the vampire’s aura. “If all you want to do is look, feel free Rusalka-san.” The girl then said calmly.
“That’s it! That’s what I wanted to hear!” The vampire giggled sadistically as she leaned forward to the point where her forehead nearly touched Miko’s, “You put up a brave front, but I can smell the terror you’re experiencing. It’s so adorable that I was even able to forget about crushing that twat Edelfelt last night! Though you should know, your little heroic sacrifice only delayed the inevitable.”
Scooting her chair back and averting her eyes slightly as the vampire’s aura began to unsettle her, Miko ignored the implications of what Rusalka said and coolly replied, “You’re a little too close, Rusalka-san.”
“You do have a point: I shouldn’t be too reliant on heavy-handed tactics.” The vampire conceded as she backed away a little, “After all, it’s more satisfying if my words alone are what eventually drive you to despair, my sweet. Well, I did also plan on giving you a front-row seat when I finish what I started last-!”
Cutting her off, a tall, stocky young man in armor gripped Rusalka’s skull with one of his hands before hurling her into a wall; her head plowed through it while her body hung limply from that anchor-point.
