THEN VERY QUICKLY: THE BOLTS AND LOCKS ON THE DOOR UNLOCK THEMSELVES AND THE DOOR FLIES OPEN AND WILLOW IS THERE. NOT STANDING, BUT FLOATING A GOOD FOOT AND A HALF ABOUT THE FLOOR. Her arms are extended at her sides, palms facing front. Her hair and clothes are blowing behind her as if she stands at the bow of a boat. AND HER EYES. Her eyes show no pupils, no irises, they are completely black. And they GLOW.
SHE MOVES TOWARDS US, TOWARDS GLORY. Incanting all the while, almost inaudible at first, but growing:
WILLOW: I. Owe. You. Pain.
And on the word “pain,” WILLOW’S EMPTY EYES GLOW BRIGHTER. SHE RAISES BOTH ARMS, AIMING TEN FINGERTIPS STRAIGHT AT GLORY. ENERGY BLASTS FROM HER FINGERTIPS.
Glory gets engulfed in the wave of unholy energy. We see and hear her do something she’s never done before: