He stretched out his hand.
The limb transformed in an instant, flesh rippling and darkening as it became a devil's arm, thick, corded muscle covered in obsidian scales that gleamed like polished volcanic glass.
Long, razor-sharp claws extended with a soft metallic scrape, each one curved wickedly, promising agony to anything they touched.
The air around the arm seemed to warp, heavy with the faint scent of brimstone and something darker, more primal.
Jordan remained still.
Not the least bit rattled.
His starry eyes watched the transformation without a flicker of fear, the constellations within them swirling slowly, calmly, as if cataloging every detail of Nick's fury.
He stood with the quiet poise of someone who had stared down worse shadows and walked away.
He moved quickly as well. In a blur of motion too smooth to track fully, Jordan lunged forward and grabbed Nick's transformed arm.
