Another round.
Attack.
Maim.
Heal.
The pattern repeats itself like a broken cycle.
Theo inhales slowly, deeply, steadying the storm inside him.
"If this is all you can do, I've seen enough."
He opens both arms.
The sky responds instantly.
Dark clouds converge from every direction, spiraling inward. Thunder rolls across the heavens in layered echoes. Wind rises sharply, whipping the ocean into violent swells. Waves crash against each other, rising higher, angrier.
Theo hovers in mid-air, suspended between sea and sky.
His white hair streams behind him, carried by the wind in long, fluid arcs. Not chaotic. Not wild.
Controlled.
If Arthur and Julian could see his eyes clearly, they would not recognize them.
A distinct golden ring now circles his irises.
Bright.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
Power radiates from him so densely it feels almost visible.
He raises one hand slowly.
Then brings it down in a single decisive motion.
The sky answers.
Lightning tears downward.
