The crater was silent. The wind had stopped, and a heavy stillness settled over everything, as if the world was waiting to see if it was safe to exist again.
Mirabelle stood over High Inquisitor Theon's body. In death, he seemed small. Fiona's crossbow bolt was still in his throat, the last mark on his life. His skin was gray, the golden light that once made him seem godlike now gone, and his shoulder was torn where Revas had bitten him.
"He looks disappointing," Revas said, walking up beside her.
He was a mess. His shirt had burned away in the fight, leaving his chest bare in the cold. His skin glowed faintly, not with his usual violet darkness, but with a sickly gold light that pulsed under his veins like infected blood. He wiped glowing ichor from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"He tasted disappointing, too," Revas continued, nudging Theon's body with his toe.
