"Fuck! Why is that witch bitch here again?! Retreat back inside!" the older woman urged her people in frustration, her voice barely containing her alarm.
But before anyone could heed the warning, another dagger flew toward the group and struck the woman's right leg, embedding itself in her flesh.
The attack didn't end there. A flurry of daggers shot through the air, darting silently out of the darkness. It was impossible to anticipate where they would land, the only clue being the whispers of wind that accompanied them.
One man tried to evade by listening for the telltale sound of their approach, but before he could react, a dagger found its mark in his stomach. He doubled over, groaning in pain as chaos erupted around them.
Whitney's eyes widened as recognition washed over her. Those daggers—she had sold them to Remillia. That unmistakable style and color. She was sure it was the obsidiarite daggers.
