Calvian's Solbrand slammed into Sylas's curved blade with a force that shook the very foundations of the Cathedral. Golden fire exploded outward, colliding with arcs of blue-green light that seared across the ancient walls, burning scripture into black char.
The sound was deafening, metal striking metal at impossible speeds, underscored by the hiss and crackle of opposing energies devouring each other.
Soren stared down at the broken scripture-chains lying at his feet, his wrists raw and bleeding but gloriously free. The weight of them, physical and otherwise, had vanished, leaving him light-headed with sudden possibility.
'No one holds you anymore,' Valenna whispered, her voice steadier than it had been in days, the shard against his chest pulsing with cold, familiar certainty.
