Azrael wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, never taking his eyes off the swirling mass of divine fury above him.
“Good,” he muttered. “Because this is going to be very stupid.”
The vortex overhead tightened. Clouds spiraled inward, compressing around Zephiron’s blazing core. Golden lightning coiled like serpents within the storm, gathering, condensing preparing to descend as something far worse than the bolts he had already thrown.
The air screamed.
“Azrael,” Quinn said, voice no longer playful. “If you’re planning what I think you’re planning… your body might not survive it.”
Azrael gave a weak smirk. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
Another tremor rippled through the ground.
Buildings that had somehow remained standing finally collapsed under the pr
