It was strange to Sapphira. Asher could have easily lunged at the crimson-haired assassin before she killed all his men, yet he stood there, unmoving, a shred of concern etched across his face as his warriors were brutally slaughtered before his eyes.
She very well understood the speed of an Awoken One. Asher could have intercepted Blood the moment her inner world stirred, or even before a single paladin fell. As an Awoken One, sensing the activation of another's inner world was second nature.
Unless, of course, Asher was cut off from them. The moment that thought took root, Sapphira's heart trembled. She turned to him, to the man whose Kingsword was plunged into the earth, whose eyes were locked on Blood with unnerving calm.
She reached toward him, and her hand phased straight through his form.
This was void.
Asher might appear to stand among them, but he had been disconnected from their plane of existence. The distance between them wasn't physical, it was dimensional.
