It was widely believed that the Astiel's Winter Lord lay upon her deathbed, hidden away in seclusion. Among the Nephilim, her decline had long been quietly accepted by all.
That was why her presence here was surprising.
Her soul had been preserved within the sealing pagoda, reshaped into a towering serpent-hybrid form, sustained by divine ice and countless sacrificial beasts.
And now, Emery stood before her.
Not alone either.
Caelthar Astiel hovered nearby in his own soul form, icy sword condensed along his arm.
Two of Astiel's strongest figures had cornered him within the heart of the pagoda.
Yet Emery felt no fear.
His heart burned with fury at the thought of Klea, and his soul surged with newfound power, strengthened by the violent synergy between his Dao, and the awakening force within him.
Emery raised his blade, void and flame twisting together along its edge, and met their gazes without flinching.
"Come at me, then."
