But the Shadow shimmers, almost, as if trying to melt out of existence. Finding that it can't, its eyes pop with fear, then it scrabbles backwards, out of reach. For all the good it may do him.

Its lips draw back from its teeth—countless, crowded, splintered like glass. Its distorted voice echoes from the walls, as its hands knot in the dust. "Leave her alone. Don't go near her."

It makes a sound, almost like gasping for air, if it could breath. "You have no right. She didn't choose you."