Fear The Night : Realm Of Phantoms

From all around, hands clapped, slammed down, grasping upon one another to form a pattern, streams of pale flames, pillars rising into the sky, hands emerging from all around, envisioning to crush and tear, from the ground, from the air, swirling darkness being them, blade resting within its sheath, Syklon diced everything coming for her apart, her sword not leaving scabbard.

Flashing away, once again trying to strike the main mass of darkness, the gravelord once again vanishing, reappearing a distance away without any delay, again, and again, Multeamanus evaded the lightning quick attacks.

Syklon could see that despite the creepy hand fetish, the spectre lord was unbothered by her precious hands being shredded into nothingness, either all of those held no value to the undead, or the hands she had subjugated were not truly destroyed and could be manifested back into existence.