But his sneer faltered when Rune drew his weapon. A hush fell over the field.
It was not Noctharion, but a sword with a luminous blade.
It shone in the haze of smoke, and she realized exactly what it was.
The blade shone like trapped sunlight. Each flicker of it made her chest ache, for it was the light Rune had sworn to shun—now blazed in his hand like retribution.
Sal’vathar’s smile faltered when he saw it, but he covered the tremor with posturing. “You are nothing but a forsaken pretending to be flame. The court now sees you for what you truly are.”
Rune said nothing.
“Well, you are not the only one with divine power.” Sal’vathar levitated into the air with a low cackle, magic flaring at his hands.
But he never got a chance to cast it.
Alora blinked and Rune vanished from her sight.
He was there one moment, then gone. She only saw the moment the Sunstone blade arced down like a stream of light clean through Sal’vathar’s arm. The Dominion screamed as his flesh sizzled, the sunstone eating into his webbed veins like acid.
His hand twitched in a pool of black blood.
And he did not heal.
Sal’vathar staggered back, his eyes widening.
Rune advanced, shadows wrapping him in a storm.
Summoning more webs, Sal’vathar roared. The serrated edge of Rune’s tail parried the strike and the next slash split Sal’vathar’s second arm apart from the elbow. Alora flinched at his sharp scream. Whatever spell he cast, Rune’s claws tore through them, ripping those lethal strands to shreds as if they were nothing but cobwebs in his path.
While the Dominion fought with a desperation that reeked of terror, Rune met every blow with cold precision and brutal calm. Each swing blistered his palm, sunfire flaring up his arm, yet he didn’t react to it. Didn’t slow.
Sal’vathar’s voice turned frantic, desperate to fill the silence. “You are nothing without her! Even now, your court crumbles because you were never meant to rule!”
And Rune still did not answer. His silence was worse than words; each severing was a sentence, his judgment written in sunfire and shadow.
Alora’s heart pounded as she watched, transfixed as the glowing sword sang through the air. Rune was completely calm. Measured. Every strike precise, cutting Sal’vathar down piece by piece until nothing remained but a mangled demon falling to his knees.
Sal’vathar screamed, black ichor spilling across the ground. Smoke curled from the stumps, the scent of charred flesh thick and acrid.
Rune kicked him onto his back, bringing the blade to his neck.
And it was done.
Sal’vathar’s chest heaved as he panted, his complexion pale. “I am a Dominion…” he rasped. “You… you cannot simply kill me.”
There was only one way a Dominion could be removed.
Absolute censure.
Rune looked to the Court of Envy.“Who will petition mercy for his Lord?”
Sal’vathar smiled at his faction expectantly. The wind blew over the still sea of glowing red eyes. But no voices rose in favor.
No one moved to aid him.
Because what the demons despised above weakness wascowardice.
Sal’vathar shook, complexion paling.
