Shria frowned. "I've killed my fair share of people.. Innocent people. Just for us to have food," she answered, before lettingbout a soft sigh. "Take my soul as a tribute. We shall return with more souls in return for mine."
The bemused smirk Desdemona had slowly dissappeard. "So be it," she answered. The ground trembled underneath the two, black, spectral vines with thorns shot up and ripped though Shria's body, pulling out her soul. Ofcourse, the desert elf cried out in pain, tumbling from her horse and landing on her back, panting heavily.
And the gist of Shria's soul, a whispy clone of herself was visible, held and strangled by the thorned vines. "Begone!" Desdemona called, waving her hand.
And suddenly, they were at the staircase again, as if they never moved from their location.