Aden's head tilted back. His eyes were no longer silver-ringed; they were solid, obsidian voids with a single, rotating silver spark in the center.
"So this is the 'Sun's' bite?" Aden—or the thing wearing him—spoke. The voice was layered, a thousand whispers beneath a single, mocking tone. "It tastes like stagnant water."
"You—" the Saintess began, her voice trembling for the first time.
"Don't speak," the Entity-Aden interrupted. "Your frequency is a headache."
He didn't lunge. He simply flicked his wrist.
The Saintess, a warrior of the highest order, was sent cartwheeling through the air as if hit by a freight train. She slammed into a pile of rubble, her golden armor shattering like cheap porcelain.
The Entity looked down at Lorelei, who was still slumped against his chest. With a casual, almost bored motion, he touched her shattered shoulder. The silver fluid flowed into her wound, not healing it, but restructuring it.
