The world regained color and time resumed.
But Damian was gone.
In his place hovered a six-winged black knight clad in ghastly armor that seemed carved from condensed darkness. Six vast wings spread behind him, each feather jagged and unnatural, leaking thin strands of black mist that dissolved into the air. The crimson scarf fluttered around its neck, the only color on its body, swaying calmly despite the violent winds still raging across the battlefield. The entity hovered effortlessly, its posture relaxed, its gaze lowered toward Duke Haborym as though looking down at something insignificant.
The pressure changed instantly and the battlefield fell silent.
Duke Haborym felt it before he saw it. His three heads lifted slowly, and the moment his eyes landed on the six-winged knight, his entire body stiffened. The emerald flames around him flickered violently as his instincts screamed danger far greater than anything he had faced.
The abyss spoke.
