Jeci moved forward and did not stop.
The fused thralls that blocked her path were dealt with in passing. Her spear never slowed. It rolled across her shoulders, swept low, stabbed high, and everything it touched was either severed or thrown aside. The darkness that trailed her was doing its work. Thralls that stepped into it moved as if submerged in water, their reactions dulled, their coordination broken. The fused ones fared worse. Their many limbs fell out of sync, arms swinging at different speeds, legs stumbling over themselves. The fusion that gave them strength became a liability when the darkness stripped away whatever will was holding them together.
Some simply fell apart on their own, collapsing back into their component bodies and lying still for a few precious seconds before Zebelon's control wrenched them upright again.
Jeci was close enough now to see the Commander clearly.
