The blade connected.
It didn't deflect. It didn't dissolve into mist halfway through like every other strike before it. The dragon head's fangs sank into solid resistance and held there, buried deep in Shadow's chest, deep enough that the impact rocked his entire body and threw him backward off his feet.
Shadow's eyes went wide.
He hit the ground in a skid that tore a trench through the battlefield, black mist hissing out of the wound in thick ribbons.
For one heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Aren was already running.
He didn't give Shadow the chance to stand. The Ancient Devourer came down again before Shadow had even finished sliding, catching him across the shoulder this time, ripping a chunk of shadow-flesh away that scattered into the air like ash.
"Get up," Aren said. His voice didn't shake. "I'm not done."
