A sweep of white fire ripped out of her in a flood. Demons fell back, screeching, all who were caught by her light turning to ash. Her body shone bright, her hair flickering with divine flame.
Sal’vathar turned to her with a sneer, and Alora readied her glaive. “Come on then, little queen.”
A rupture of lightning resonated through the air.
And the bond flared open in her chest.
She gasped softly.
The battlefield went still and the worlddarkened.
The Blood Moon still blazed above, but something rose into the surface of its light—shadows rolling in a massive tide across the Heavens. The ground trembled. Wind howled, spiraling upward, thick with ash and smoke. Every eye turned skyward.
Through the red haze, a vast shape ripped down through the atmosphere, cloaked in storm and shadow. Wings unfurled like cloaks, blotting out the moonlight.
Rune.
He descended in a torrent of black flame, shadows trailing him like comets. When he struck the hilltop, the impact sent half the demons flying back. The air itself cracked with the force of it, a shockwave of shadow blasting outward, echoing through her bones.
Rune stood before the seven factions, wreathed in darkness, his crimson eyes flickering with Hellfire. Long black hair streamed down his shoulders, spilling like shadow-fire down his back. New armor clung to his form, shifting and alive, as though the Nether itself clothed him.
And no glamor hid his true form. Horns gleamed like a crown of night from his brow, his barbed tail coiling like a snake. From his back unfurled draconic wings, wreathed in shadow so thick they looked endless, a void given form.
Then he turned, that burning gaze locking on her.
Her mate, commander of the night, marched toward her, power humming off the plates of fortified armor. He felt different. New magic sparked violently through their bond. Bright and whollydivine.
His large, clawed hand cupped her cheek and she smiled.
“Well? Attack!” Sal’vathar shouted at his host.
But no demons dared move.
Their shifting gazes flickered from Rune’s terrifying form, then to each other.
“What are you waiting for?” Sal’vathar snarled. “I command you to?—”
Shadows lanced through the air like spears.
Instead of dodging, Sal’vathar attempted to cut them away with a snap of his webs. They pierced his limbs with bone-breaking force, pinning him in an instant.
He tore them off with an angry growl and sneered when the wounds healed. “Your shadow tricks will not work on me anymore, Rune. I am a Primordial now.”
Alora clenched her teeth. He had not finished the spell, but he had retained a piece of her dark magic.
Rune turned to face him, and when he spoke, his voice echoed in eerie layers from the writhing shadows in the air.“Vahl’Tor.”
Sal’vathar paused, chest heaving as he became aware of every demon watching. He laughed. “Why would we fight now for the right to reign? I have already won!”
“Have you?” Alora mused. “If you want the throne, then prove yourself worthy and let the court stand witness. Unless… you’re afraid to lose.”
He snarled at the taunt.
“A challenge has been invoked,” Segrith said, standing among the ranks of Sloth. “This sacred custom will not be denied.”
The demons growled in agreement and somewhere drums beat.
Sal’vathar tore off his cloak, drawing out four wicked blades. The edges were serrated bone of some massive beast.
