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“"Penelope." The Atrox called her by her old name, his voice brutal and at the same time alluring. "I've come to take back my gift." "I surrender it easily," she said. "Your immortality was always a curse." He touched her and a burst of silver sparks burst into the air. His fingers stole the warmth from her body, draining the power of the elixir. At once she began to wrinkle, lines crinkling over her hands, veins becoming ropy under paper-thin skin. She could feel death's cold breath on her shoulder, but it didn't frighten her.” — Lynne Ewing
"Penelope." The Atrox called her by her old name, his voice brutal and at the same time alluring. "I've come to take back my gift."
"I surrender it easily," she said. "Your immortality was always a curse."
He touched her and a burst of silver sparks burst into the air. His fingers stole the warmth from her body, draining the power of the elixir.
At once she began to wrinkle, lines crinkling over her hands, veins becoming ropy under paper-thin skin. She could feel death's cold breath on her shoulder, but it didn't frighten her.