Xavier was barely standing now, but "barely" didn't mean anything anymore. His body wasn't following the same rules as before. His veins glowed in a pattern Luther had never seen—spiraling, branching like veins of black fire crawling under his skin. His claws had grown longer, his wings had hardened, their edges gleaming like jagged blades of glass.
Luther stopped moving for the first time. The air around Xavier was wrong—alive in a way that shouldn't exist.
He whispered to himself, "This… isn't vampire energy."
Xavier looked up, his eyes no longer red. They had turned pale white, glowing faintly, with faint streaks of gold running through the irises. His breathing had slowed, but every inhale made the air tremble. He took a step forward, and Luther's instincts screamed.
For the first time in centuries, the great Luther Von Stein hesitated.
