Chapter 53: Crimson bloom
"Something happened," Nyxsha growled, her voice cracking despite the snap, her tail lashing once before curling protectively around her legs. "He... used too much. His light. It wasn’t normal magic. How is he even able to do it?"
Sylvara said nothing at first, her glowing skin veined with gold and green shifting as she knelt beside him, her flowering hair cascading like a veil of crimson leaves.
Her amber eyes traced the soft pulses of gold still lingering in his fingertips, the slight tremble in his breaths, her brow furrowing with concern.
"What did he do?" she asked, her voice a soft hum laced with worry, her vines rustling faintly as if echoing her unease.
Nyxsha didn’t even look at her, her golden eyes fixed on Azareel’s face, her massive paw resting on his shoulder.
She didn’t want to talk about the cursed souls, the illusion of her past, the screaming horde of her victims, the blood and fire that had consumed her village.
The moment Azareel had stepped forward—glowing brighter than the nightmare—and calmed the very hatred that had once consumed her, forgiving them in a way she never could.
"He protected me," she finally muttered, her voice low, almost breaking. "Like a fool."
Virelya slithered down from the trees, her humanoid form tall and elegant, her damp black hair clinging to her pale skin, her golden, slit-pupiled eyes flickering with a strange mixture of worry and annoyance as she coiled nearby.
"Oh good," she said sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest. "He’s dying again."
"He’s not dying," Nyxsha snapped, her golden eyes flashing with defiance, though her tail twitched uneasily, betraying her fear., "Remember? He is immortal."
Virelya raised a brow, her porcelain mask tilting slightly.