The blackness was oozing from the band, thick and intentional. It wasn't just sitting on his skin; it was sinking into it. Dark, spider-webbing veins branched out from the base of his finger, crawling up his hand and disappearing beneath his sleeve.
On the side of his neck, a jagged line of midnight-purple stood out against his pallid flesh, tracing the path of his carotid artery. His fingertips were already turning a necrotic black, the flesh beginning to wither under the weight of the curse.
Eris let her fingers hover just a hair's breadth above the obsidian band. She didn't need to touch it to feel the malice. It was cold, not the clean, sharp frost of Soren's magic, but a hollow, hungry cold that wanted to consume everything it touched. It felt intentional. Malicious. It was a spell designed not just to harm, but to hollow out the wearer from the inside out.
