Anabel tightly clenched her trembling fists, "I'm not with Oliver anymore; you're wasting your time with me here."
"Oh, so the both of you broke up?" the lamia questioned. "What a pity...I really liked you, Anabel; you're very obedient, and you crave the affection of my son so much."
"He doesn't deserve you," the lamia added. "But he needs you."
Anabel couldn't keep her body from trembling as she watched the lamia walk toward her. Her black cloak made of raven feathers fluttered in the wind as she moved, and her skeleton hand tightly gripped her staff.
Anabel was beyond terrified staring into the darkness under the hood of the cloak. 'She doesn't have a head,' she thought, remembering the story of the lamia's death.
Other than a few Gods, no one knew for sure if the story was true, but they said the lamia beheaded herself after she killed Amaira many decades ago.
