So—" Diablo said, voice calm yet edged with curiosity, "how was it? What do you feel?"
Icabod's jaw tightened. "I can't explain it." He clenched his fists, trembling slightly. "Every time I borrow a god's power… it feels heavier. Like something's pressing down on my soul."
Diablo stepped closer, his crimson eyes faintly glowing. "Heavier, hmm? Touch me again."
Icabod frowned but obeyed. The instant their hands met—
BOOM!
Lightning exploded between them. A violent surge of power threw dust into the air. Icabod's body convulsed, veins lighting up in golden-blue patterns before he broke contact, panting hard.
"What the hell was that?" he gasped, staring at his trembling hands. "I felt… everything."
Diablo smirked faintly. "Yes, boy. That's your true ability — Divine Mimicry. Almost forgotten by the world. The first wielders couldn't handle it. They went mad." His voice darkened, like thunder hiding behind calm clouds. "The power boost it grants is beyond measure — strength, speed, senses — all divine. But there's always a price."
Icabod's brows furrowed. "What do you mean by 'they went mad'?"
Diablo exhaled slowly, looking up at the sky as if seeing memories no one else could. "Six thousand years ago — for me, it's still yesterday — there was a man who bore your same mark. He stopped borrowing power for justice. His flaw consumed him."
His tone dropped lower. "His wife and three children were murdered by the man he once saved. After that, he became a storm that never calmed. His flaw was vengeance."
Icabod's voice softened. "What's… a flaw?"
"Something that changes who you are," Diablo replied, eyes now fixed on him. "Something that shapes your choices before you realize it. His flaw twisted him until nothing human remained."
He leaned closer, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Looking at you, I see the same spark."
Icabod's lips curled into a half-smile. "Nah. I'll pass. But Crane?" His eyes darkened, flames flickering faintly around his pupils. "I'll go through anything to kill that man — even if it means dying and being reborn a thousand times."
Diablo's smirk faded. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Icabod's shoulder. The warmth in his palm was heavy, ancient.
"Listen to me, boy," he said quietly. "The gods you borrow from… they live through you. If your heart burns with vengeance, they'll feed it — until you can't tell where their fury ends and yours begins."
Icabod rubbed his jaw, still feeling the echo of lightning under his skin. "What's a flaw, sorry?"
Diablo didn't look surprised. He took a slow breath, eyes on the dark horizon as if the past lived there. "Something that changes how you think and act. The first man who bore this gift… he was eaten by an emotional flaw. Revenge. Looking at you, it could happen."
Icabod snorted, but there was steel in his laugh. "Naa. I'll pass. Crane's different. I'll go through anything to kill that man — even if it means dying and being reborn a thousand times."
Diablo's gaze sharpened. "So the main thing is control. Those gods feed on your feelings. Let them find anger and they'll answer it. Let them find calm and they'll strengthen you differently." He paused, then tilted his head. "What's your fighting style, anyway?"
"Katana," Icabod said without thinking. He straightened, fingers brushing an invisible hilt. "It works best with me. We should spar a little — don't you think?"
Diablo let out a dry chuckle. "I wish I could, kid — but I go full fist." He flexed one hand, knuckles pale beneath the skin. A grin tugged at his mouth. "No blade could stop that."
Icabod's grin widened. "It could smash through a thousand mountains. That's just who you are."
For a moment the two of them laughed — rough, honest sounds that made the night feel less empty.
Then a voice cut through the warmth.
"Tasha!" Icabod snapped, turning before he realized it wasn't a shout. She stepped into the circle of light, breath coming quick, eyes serious. "You're not having a spar, you idiots. There's movement near the old ruins — something's waking up."
The laugh died between them. Diablo's smile vanished like smoke. Icabod's hand tightened at his side; the katana at his hip felt suddenly heavier.
Diablo's voice was low. "Stay sharp. Whatever it is, it's not here for conversation."
Tasha's face was pale under the moonlight, but her voice didn't tremble. "Then let's go see what's trying to wake."
They moved together toward the ruins, laughter gone and something else taking its place — an easy silence full of readiness.