The cave held its breath.
Raven stood at the edge of the altar, sword raised—still as a statue, calm as a man watching snowfall, even as his pulse thudded like war drums in his ears.
Black fire danced along Omni's edge, whispering destruction, craving motion. But Raven… didn't think.
He couldn't think.
Thinking was dangerous now.
So, he moved.
The blade came down.
Slowly—or so it seemed—the sword arced in the air like a falling comet, cutting a line through the divine silence.
The black fire left a streak behind, and for a moment, the shadows in the cavern recoiled.
Omni screamed with joy in Raven's hand.
Closer. Closer.
Then, finally, contact.
The edge of Omni touched Ivelia's throat—
—And stopped.
Like striking a wall of unbreakable glass.
Thunk.
No blood. No mark. Not even a scratch.
Raven's eyes narrowed.
He gritted his teeth and pressed harder, pouring strength into his arms until his shoulders tensed, the muscles in his back shifting under his clothes.
