Emilia is familiar with the smell of flesh burning, how it melts from the bone and how high the scent can rise. But it does vary depending on the creature, and this sand lurker is no different, hard-shelled and slippery that it is. She sees the blades of its arms melt first, sees them glow rose-gold as flames take hold.

What has not yet fully burned is carved by Wrath's hand.

The sounds it makes are awful. Its shrieking rends through the powerful winds gathered, and she stands there and looks. ... Thinks, too, that this noise will inevitably draw some attention.

Her gaze lifts to meet Wrath's from across the flames, her hand reaching for the dagger at her thigh. The ground below stirs once more, but not just from one concentrated location.

It's scattered around them, like a circle.