The emerging form of Skal'Zarith reeled. It wasn't fear exactly, but recognition. That frozen grin of sadistic hunger faltered. The black frost surrounding it began to retreat, curling inward like ash afraid of wind. For the first time, the demon didn't move forward.
From the light stepped a figure.
Or perhaps it wasn't stepping at all, perhaps reality itself was simply shifting to make room for its presence. The figure was wreathed in celestial flame and cloaked in an armor of star-forged sigils that burned with truths too ancient for words. Its face was hidden, obscured by a mask etched with constellations and fate-lines, but even the mask pulsed with authority.
"Return." The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It resonated in bone, in soul. The kind of command that didn't come from volume but from law, the original law before systems and rules were written.
