"Xiviyah."
The being's voice was quiet. His black form wavered at the edges, fraying in the astral winds that tore through the void around him.
Then he was before me. He didn't move. He simply was.
I stumbled back against Fable, almost tripping over his paw. Oblivion radiated from the figure, bringing an icy chill to my soul. My knees wouldn't stop shaking. During the battle, I'd clung to Fable and tried to hold my aura together, terrified that each clash would tear away something I couldn't restore. Even now, with the fighting over, I couldn't make myself loosen my grip.
"You're…you're not Fyren," I said.
"No. But he is me." His gaze settled on my trembling hands. "You are afraid. That is good. It is natural for mortals to fear the dark."
"What did you do to him? Where did you send him?" I asked, looking toward the growing void where Fate had vanished.
"Seventy thousand."
"What?" I looked up in confusion, my fingers curling deeper into Fable's fur.
