"Big words for something I created!"
Angeline's palm turned upward, and light gathered along her fingers until a blade took shape from nothing — gold edged in white fire, humming with the kind of density that could split a moon in half.
She wasn't the first to move, though.
Jormungandr came from the black beyond the fleet's formation, a coil of scale and hunger vast enough that entire ships repositioned just to avoid its wake.
World-eater was not a title it had earned through metaphor. Its jaw alone could have swallowed the Council's flagship without slowing down, and it crossed the distance to Asher in a single motion, mouth already open.
Asher didn't dodged.
He lifted one hand. Between his fingers, a magic circle bloomed — a thousand layers stacked into a space smaller than a coin, lines compressed so tightly they looked less like sigils and more like a single point of light trying to hold its shape.
"Light of Destruction!"
