The divine fusion reeled back, damaged but far from done. It began restructuring itself—shifting layers of scripture, pulling memories from forgotten realms to rebuild its armor.
Elyse stepped forward. Quiet. Calm.
She rarely fought. But when she did, it was because someone had dared to harm the people she loved.
A second beam—a blade of compressed soullight—launched at Naia.
Elyse moved.
She shimmered into the path, pressing a palm to her heart, glowing with healing runes.
The beam struck her full-on. But instead of piercing, it slowed.
Then bent.
Then turned to dust.
"No one touches my flame girl," Elyse whispered.
The fusion tried to override her defenses, diving into her mind with divine pressure.
Big mistake.
Because buried under her kindness was a storm of wrath. Elyse activated her soulblade—a curved weapon made of her own healing essence.
She moved once.
And the fusion bled code.
"I'm the healer," Elyse said, stepping past the collapsing script. "But mercy ends where my people bleed."