The Lance landed upright with a thud in the grass as Ronan backflipped out of harm's way. His Mark of the Butterfly activated, and smoke billowed from his forearm.
“Not bad," Scindo said with a big grin. “And it looks like those markings on your arm are the real thing. Aren't they, Black Serpent?"
Ronan c****d a brow. “What did you call me?"
He'd only ever been referred to by such a name inside The Temple of the Butterfly.
Scindo's indigo hair swayed beneath his tricorn hat as he responded, “I've dreamt of this day for months now. I see you and the Black Butterfly, and I hear The Shroud's demonic voices."
He approached the lance and tugged it from the dirt, whipping it and the packed-on soil to his side.
“That's what The Shroud calls you both," Scindo continued, his slur disappea
