The biting mountain air outside the Old Iron Works was so cold it burned the back of Kyle's throat, but it was nothing compared to the divine pressure distorting the sky above them.
High in the grey clouds, the spatial fabric was tearing apart. Bright, golden-white fractures rippled across the firmament, casting jagged light across the snow-capped peaks. The Upper Firmament had locked onto Vespera's divine signature.
Vespera floated above the deep snow, her light robes flickering violently like a candle caught in a draft. Specks of golden mana were flaking off her body, dissolving into the freezing air before they could touch the ground.
