He lunged, and for a moment Lindarion thought the god had crossed the space between them. Then he realized — there wasn't any space anymore. Zerathis had simply erased it, turning distance into nothing, and his strike came down at Ouroboros's head.
She caught it. With two fingers.
The concept-blade shook, its edges fraying like burning paper. Lindarion swore he heard it scream. Ouroboros's voice was a whisper:
"You've forgotten the first lesson."
She twisted her fingers, and the blade unmade itself, each shard of its concept scattering into threads that dissolved into the void.
Zerathis's face didn't change, but the space behind him warped, a storm of cutting winds and inverted gravity spinning into being. It reached for her like a living thing.
Ouroboros let it touch her.
