Without a single word of prayer or hesitation, Evangeline stepped into the void. She didn't fall; she surrendered, letting the hungry gravity of the abyss claim her weight. For a terrifying succession of heartbeats, there was only the whistling shriek of the wind and the sight of Silver's sprawling form plummeting toward the jagged stone below.
Then, the air itself seemed to shatter.
A violent, bone-snapping crack echoed against the fortress walls—a sound of flesh rending and ancient power awakening. From the delicate arc of her shoulder blades, two colossal wings of ink and night erupted like a sudden eclipse. They weren't feathered; they were sails of obsidian, membrane-thin yet stronger than iron, catching the gale with a thunderous thrum.
As she dived, her humanity peeled away. Ten lethal, curved talons burst from her fingertips, gleaming like polished jet.
