Work Text:
The scientist is too late. The child is a little too special.
The leader of the Manus Vindictae's voice rings soft, like a mother ushering her child back home. "Venu, mia infano. La Manus akceptos vin kun malfermitaj brakoj."
Amidst the coldness of the weather, Z feels the hairs on her arms stand up— the subtle hum of an arcane skill. Stricken in place by the door; whether it be the bone-chilling fear in her bones or another arcane skill, Z can only watch as the girl and Manus Vindictae's leader disappear in a flash of light before her eyes.
