Zagan raised his hand, shadows twisting together. A jagged sword of darkness formed in his grip, its edges dripping with black energy.
He pointed it at Azrael's chest.
"This is where you end, boy."
The blade came down like a guillotine.
But frost erupted in front of Azrael. Selvara's ice shield.
The black blade smashed against it. Cracks split across the surface, each strike louder, deeper, more final.
Azrael couldn't see Zagan through the thick ice, only the fractures crawling wider with each blow.
His chest heaved. His thoughts screamed.
'This is it. My death. Right here.'
The shield shattered.
He braced for the final strike.
But instead of cold steel piercing him, he felt a sudden shove.
He stumbled back, eyes wide.
The sword was buried in Selvara's chest.
She had stepped in front of him. She pushed him away. The shadow blade pierced through her body, jutting from her back. Blood streamed down, staining the frost black and red.
Azrael's heart froze. "Selvara!"
