Zephyr looked down at the slender arm piercing through his body, his comrade's arm.
His friend's. The one he trusted with his back.
"…Nalai?"
His knees buckled. Blood dripped from his lips as he slumped against her, his blade falling from his hand and clattering across the stone.
Across the field, Serika turned in time to see her sister lower the corpse gently to the ground.
"…Sister?" Her voice cracked. "What are you doing?"
Nalai looked up. Her expression was unreadable. Her hand was still wet with Zephyr's blood.
Serika screamed.
"Sister?!"
The world stood still.
And the god began to laugh.
Zephyr's blood hadn't even begun to cool when the wind-cultivator, eyes hollow with corruption, abandoned Nalai and launched off the ground.
Not toward her. Not toward Quinlan.
He streaked past Venthros, leaping with blades drawn, and descended upon Rongtai's remaining monks.
