Kael fell to his knees, panting. The tails disappeared into particles of golden light, like embers carried away by the wind. His sword, now cold and dull, stuck into the ground beside him, still vibrating with the echoes of the divine energy that had briefly become flesh through him.
The temple—or what remained of it—was plunged into a heavy silence, as if the world were holding its breath.
Liora staggered toward him, her eyes red with blood, her skin covered in deep cuts, but her hands still steady. She knelt and touched Kael's shoulder.
"You did it," she whispered.
Kael looked up. "I'm not sure."
Exelia followed close behind, her steps slow, her body covered in dust and dried blood, but her sword still in her hands. She stopped in front of the open crater where the altar had once stood. There, amid the melted rocks and charred bones, was only a dull, almost indistinguishable glow.
But there was no body.
