Sylas honestly couldn't believe what he was seeing, but there was no mistaking it. Although she looked darker than he remembered—not just in skin tone, but aura as well—and she also had wings as black as night, and a gaze without a hint of the kindness he recalled…
He was sure.
That was Nosphaleen.
It couldn't have been anyone else.
The people cheered. The men beat their chests and the women raised their children high as though to get a better look at the statue that they all called their own.
Many had already noticed Sylas' presence, but it was as though they didn't care at all. They were busy celebrating, busy celebrating their Goddess for having granted them a new world to conquer.
The journey to their next world often took the lives of many. The universe was treacherous and too many of their number were unbelievably weak. During the journey, many often died.
