The void shook again.
Pieces of dead stars rained in slow arcs across a torn sky. The battlefield had no name anymore. Just ruin. Just sound and fury. Kaelor hovered, his chest rising and falling, steam curling off the cuts on his arms. His robes were shredded. Bark peeled from his skin. Vines around him were torn, frayed, burnt.
But his eyes—still open, still glowing that sickly, ancient green.
Joshua floated opposite, one sleeve missing, runes crackling around him like angry wasps. One eye swollen shut. Blood trailed from his nose. Still clean, still sharp, but not untouched. Not anymore.
And Mael…
He was calm.
Always calm.
Scales spun silently around him, but even he had cracks now. His robes were torn at the hem. One of the floating scales was split clean in half, flickering. He blinked slowly, watching Kaelor like a riddle he couldn't quite solve.
Then it happened.
Kaelor snapped his fingers — once.
The sky screamed.
