[Alvar's POV—Thorenvald Estate—Later]
The sky split open.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically.
Literally.
A crack of blue lightning tore across the clouds as Zephyy descended like a falling star—wings spread wide, scales glowing like molten sapphire. Haldor gulped beside me. Roland whispered a prayer he didn't remember.
And I…I felt my heartbeat stop. Because in Zephyy's talons—screaming, cursing, thrashing, glowing—hung a Spirit Goddess.
A real one.
Golden hair whipping like fire. Violet eyes blazing with divine fury. Clothed in spirit-woven silk that rippled like moonlight.
Zephyy slammed into the courtyard, landing with a quake that shook the stone beneath us. Snow spiraled upward from the force.
Caelum slid off his back, wings folding sharply. He didn't even look winded. The goddess, however, screeched with enough rage to shatter continents:
"PUT ME DOWN, YOU MISERABLE—! YOU WINGLESS—! YOU IMPUDENT—! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM—?!"
