Chapter 21: Ascending Halo
The air cracked again. And again. And again.
Each thunderclap echoed through the trees like a celestial execution. The forest trembled beneath the divine percussion, leaves dislodging, dust spiraling upward. The scent of scorched bark and mana residue thickened the atmosphere. Golden scatterlights shimmered in the air like splintered holiness unleashed in fragments.
Behind a wide-bellied tree, Samael crouched low, her breath sharp through her clenched teeth. Her once-pristine flesh was torn across her shoulder, thigh, side, and cheek. A dozen fresh wounds poured slow rivulets of blood, her wings twitching erratically behind her as she poured her concentration inward.
Her Hemo Psyche pulsed unnaturally, strands of red energy converging into her palms and spreading into the open flesh. Muscles knitted back together, sinew crawling into place with reluctant obedience.
"...This is why I hate Fatelings," she hissed beneath her breath, her tone low, venomous, shaken. "A ticking time bomb. Always one moment from apotheosis. One misstep, one spark of divine alignment, and they slip into something else. Something not themselves..."
A whirring silence followed.
But silence was not an indication of safety.
Samael twisted to the side instinctively.
The barrel of the Remington hovered inches from her temple.
Kivas stood beside her, silent, expressionless. Her gilded irises had receded, leaving behind blank voids that shimmered with unfiltered light. The weapon in her grasp hummed faintly, reacting to her Mana Psyche with an eerie eagerness.
Before the eerie angel could shoot, Samael raised the cinquedea and swiped the shotgun aside in a sweeping arc.