The red lightning gathered in Dario's palms, snapping and spitting across the air like a living storm. The air reeked of iron and ozone, every crackle promising ruin.
Ren planted himself in front of Lilith, vines surging across his skin, weaving into armor as thick as bark.
The moment the lightning lanced forward, it struck him dead on.
His Vine Armor screamed. The green plates glowed, then turned brittle gray, flaking to dust as the red current forced the solid wood into choking ash.
But even as one layer crumbled, another surged upward from beneath his skin, new tendrils knotting themselves into fresh protection.
Ren's jaw clenched, but he stood his ground.
"Stay behind me!" he barked, his green eyes narrowed against the storm.
Lilith didn't argue. Her knives gleamed in the dim hall, silver arcs slicing through the haze of dust.
She snapped her wrist, and a blade spun past Ren's shoulder.
