Alice had no choice but to dissipate the lance. She could feel the darkness element clinging to it, gnawing at the essence she had poured in, and worse, it had begun to draw more essence out of her. The flames and lightning winked out of her hand, and a thin trail of black smoke curled away from her palm.
The two Gnomes wore sour expressions. They could sense that the Necromancer was dead, struck down by Reynolds. They had believed they had stopped Alice. They had never expected Reynolds to have the freedom to come this way, let alone to finish off a defenseless man.
Now they had to face Alice and her Seelie, and for some reason, their confidence refused to come.
Free of the lance, Alice wasted no time. A rain of lightning fell on the pair, white bolts hammering the sky and lighting their faces in harsh flashes.
The Gnomes had no choice but to fight. Turning their backs to her was not an option.
