My Wives Are A Divine Hive Mind

From a rift in the air, Samael drew a massive arrow—three meters long, its shaft forged from exotic materials harvested from the Eldritch City Xenorealm.

Blackened crystal veins ran through its surface, pulsing with a faint, sickly glow, as if the arrow itself resented being summoned.

Oizys’s shadowy tendrils, writhing like fleshy tentacles, coiled around the arrow, shaping it into the heart of a spectral ballista.

The weapon formed rapidly, its frame a grotesque fusion of divine steel and void-forged sinew, its strings humming with latent energy.

Oizys’s fingers lingered on the bolt, her eyes softening. "It’s a shame, you know. This Eldritch Bolt... I’ve grown fond of it. It feels wrong to fire it so soon."

Samael’s deadpan face cracked into a smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You’re practically married to it with how you’re caring for it. Poor Kivas, betrayed by a glorified arrow."

Oizys snorted, her tendrils tightening around the ballista’s frame. "That’s a stretch, even for you. I just appreciate fine craftsmanship, especially of my own achievement. Unlike someone who’d toss such a fine piece into a storm without a second thought."

Samael leaned closer, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. "You’re stroking that bolt’s ego like it’s a pet. Next, you’ll name it and write it poetry."

Oizys grinned, her sadistic edge surfacing. "Maybe I will. ’Ode to the Bolt’ sounds better than your unsophisticated appreciation. Speaking of which, should we fire this now?" She jerked her thumb toward the Nihil, its crimson maw now swallowing half the horizon, its presence a grinding pressure against their senses.

"Maybe a little bit later," Samael rested her chin on her hand. "I’m thinking of letting the Monochara’s bastion experience more of the explosion, more than just seeing it."

"You’re sadistic."

"I know."