The cathedral roof ruptured beneath Elan's falling body, stone tiles cracking like eggshells beneath divine flesh. He hit the floor in a burst of broken radiance—an impact heavy enough to shake dust from ancient beams and send fractured moonlight scattering across the shattered surface.
Aiden descended behind him with the unhurried grace of someone stepping off a carriage. His boots kissed the stone lightly, almost politely. Holy aura shimmered around him once more—soft, pure, comforting. It wrapped his form like a warm sunrise, hiding the shadowed storm he had just unleashed.
The small pendant clicked when he clasped it back onto his chest.
A simple, gentle sound.
Yet the moment it fastened, the world exhaled in relief.
The incubus aura—the true abyss—vanished.
In its place blossomed a gentle, radiant glow of holy warmth, the sort that soothed wounds and calmed frightened hearts. The sort the saintess knew. The sort Elan remembered.
