In his panic, Hope couldn't even tell left from right, but he knew that at least one of the two bone spikes had pierced Wilbur's heart.
Wilbur struggled. He tried to raise one hand, but it fell limply after rising only halfway. His towering body, over two meters tall, began to convulse.
He died just like that. Hope watched him die. Wilbur had said something before he died, but Hope hadn't heard him clearly.
Then his corpse vanished, disappearing right before Hope's eyes.
This was how it vanished: starting with his hair and the tips of his limbs, it slowly melted into a pool of dark green liquid. The liquid gave off an overpowering stench of decay, then turned black. A dozen seconds later, his body began to melt as well, still convulsing. After a few minutes, all that remained on the ground were Wilbur's clothes and the bone spikes fused to them.
The Night Hawks that had flown over gathered around Wilbur's corpse. They watched him until he had completely disappeared. Hope heard their disappointed howls before they gradually flew away.
Lavinia had appeared beside Hope at some point.
"He's dead," she said.
"Yes." Hope nodded.
His strength gave out, and he dropped to his knees. Head bowed, he finally vomited.
Lavinia collected the remnants of Wilbur's clothes before they could get soiled.
After a while, Lavinia brought over a leather waterskin and handed it to Hope.
Hope looked at her in confusion.
"Water," Lavinia said curtly.
Hope remembered. This was the water Old Whateley had sent Zachariah to deliver.
He rinsed his mouth, then drank some.
"Where's Zachariah?" Hope asked.
"He ran off. He's gone down the mountain," Lavinia replied. "Does killing someone make you sick?"
Hope shook his head. "It's not just that."
"Then it's Wilbur's corpse,"