The bloody edge of the sword pointed directly at Lucien's throat, and it didn't shake by a single millimeter.
"Kael, stop!" Lucien shouted, his own boots skidding against the wet stone ledge as he stepped back.
He didn't draw his weapon yet.
He looked into his younger brother's face, searching for any sign of the steady, disciplined Vanguard commander he knew.
There was nothing left.
Kael's jaw was loose, a thin line of spit running down his chin, and his eyes were completely swallowed by a brilliant, terrifying golden light.
It was the exact same color as the faceless figure from the deep ocean memory.
When he spoke, his mouth moved awkwardly, and the sound that came out was a horrible, dual layered harmony of two voices overlapping perfectly.
One was Kael's familiar voice, but the other sounded like the distant, hollow ringing of glass bells.
