Burning blood

The clocktower was massive, and the room in which the stranger stepped into was barren. There was only a singular chair on the far side of the room, just under the inside of the clock's face, and what appeared to be a dead woman resting in it. The stranger advanced through the room slowly - he had been tricked more than once before - but the body did not move, even as he drew close to it. Most did, springing to life to attack him. This one was well armed. Perhaps a new weapon to carry him forward...

As soon as he reached out to take it, however, the woman's arm leaped forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling her up and out of her chair. "You are unwise to disturb the dead," her voice shouted into his mind, ringing through his brain though her lips did not move. "You will be punished for your transgressions." Her blade was abruptly in her hand, and the stranger had to throw himself with all of his strength backwards to avoid the blow aimed at his heart.

He looked up to see her grabbing the two-sided blade in both hands, and with a flick of her wrists it was split in two. Without any hesitation she pointed the two blades at her own chest and struck hard, piercing through her body and sending blood splattering on the floor and wall behind her. Her body did not stagger, and as she drew the blades forth once more the holes remaining in her froze the stranger in place. He had killed many fiends, but those had staggered upon taking damage. She was different. She was terrifying.

She didn't even make a move to attack him. Still standing at a distance, she flicked the blades in his direction, and her blood landed on his skin, a strange and frigid cold, though its iron stench still invaded his nostrils. He stared up at her, unsure of how to take what was happening. He had thought himself powerful, unstoppable. He had not met a foe who would harm themselves to intimidate him.

But he quickly learned that it was more than intimidation. In an instant the icy sensation on his skin became burning. He looked down and the blood itself was engulfed in flames, eating away at his skin. And it was all over him. He screamed and staggered, trying to put out the flames, but they would not stop. The woman stood over him, watching him struggle, not moving until his body had turned to ash.

And then, without a word or noise of any kind, she returned to her chair and sat down, slumping back into it and closing her eyes once more.