Sylas walked right by him as though he didn't exist, a heavily injured Brama pulling out a metallic shield that unfurled in gears and fans of bronze to block.
Niafon was sent flying backward, and Old Brama coughed up a mouthful of blood, pools of it leaking faster from his wounds than ever before.
The armies of the Golden Grove roared, and at a time unknown to them… the Hollow Wing roared back.
Swaths and layers, tides and currents of corpses fell. It was a deluge of death, an oppressive mask of darkness that hung over the bright shades of gold that once made the Golden Grove look so sparkling and beautiful, but now made it feel so vapid and hollow.
Niafon crashed somewhere in the far-off distance, his arm broken and misshapen. And Yaoyao just stood where she was, her lip trembling as she looked from Zayreus' corpse and then to the sea of corpses around her.
