The cathedral floor split beneath their feet, cracking lines of divine and profane energy like veins of molten silver across cold stone.
Elan lunged, wings flaring in a brilliant cascade of shattered light, each feather glowing sharp and dangerous like a blade of burning glass.
His fist, wrapped in the Goddess's radiant aura, aimed with lethal precision for Aiden's heart, a strike meant to end the nightmare he embodied.
But Aiden only smiled.
A slow, deliberate curve of his lips, golden eyes narrowing as though tasting the fear mingled with desperation that radiated off the Vessel.
He had anticipated this—the righteous fury, the raw devotion, the naivete. And it delighted him.
Then he caught the blow. One hand, effortless, like plucking a fallen star from the sky. Elan's eyes widened, disbelief twisting into panic. "What—?"
