A sword shimmered into being in Samael's hand—raw, seamless, formed entirely from Mana Psyche.
It didn't reflect light as much as it consumed it, a blade without a true edge, defined only by intent and divine configuration.
The air trembled gently as it was raised, hovering parallel to the ground.
Samael turned her head slightly toward Kivas, who sat on the ground, one leg folded beneath her, the other resting with a trembling knee. Her hands were clasped tightly together, resting over her lap.
Her halo flickered erratically above her head, casting a crooked radius of fire.
"Are you ready?" Samael asked.
Kivas inhaled sharply. "I'm ready."
Blanchette tilted her head slightly, watching the exchange from where she sat perched on a tree stump.
Her white hair shifted with the breeze, her eyes lazily focused on the sword in Samael's hand. "Is this really necessary?"
