The cloudy, invisible lump of power of death suddenly shot forward to catch up with Soara's gaze. It rammed straight into the head of Death's head. If it had been an attack with physical matter, weight, and force, it would have knocked back the head.
Since it was an attack using nothing but a concept and a metaphorical description, it wasn't enough to move the head on its own.
But the pain the head of Death felt when Soara infiltrated its head was enough to make it twist, turn, and fling its head around.
The Hydra didn't have hands it could cover its head with. It didn't have claws it could use to scratch itself with to distract itself from the pain. It had legs it could walk with and eight heads that could overturn the world.
But the head of Death could not resist Soara.
For the first time since it grew four heads, the Hydra felt small. As the head of Death looked toward Soara, it saw a towering, shadowy figure draped in a cloak blot out the sky.
