If you could provide more context about "vel gendis," I could offer a more targeted explanation.
"I serve a coward!" the general sobbed, unable to stop the confession. "The Usurper killed the true King for gold! I am afraid! I am so afraid!"
Until me.
He didn't crawl out. He rose through the dirt, particle by particle, assembling himself from the soil. Vel Gendis was not a man in any way that matters. He had the shape of one—two arms, two legs, a head—but his proportions were wrong. His fingers were too long, his joints bent in directions that suggested hinges instead of bone. His skin was the colour of a drowned body, a pale, translucent grey, and beneath it, something moved. Not organs. Not blood. Shadows . Shadows swimming in his veins.
It wasn't heavy. In fact, it felt weightless, like holding a breeze. The arrows meant for her froze in mid-air, turning into dust before they could reach her.