The demon lunged toward Anakin, claws ablaze with hellfire. Time seemed to slow as Anakin braced for impact, his body frozen in fear. Before the demon could reach him, Ana’s voice sliced through the chaos like a blade.
“Not my son.”
In a blur, she shoved Anakin to the ground and unfurled her massive angelic wings. The sheer radiance of them lit the room like a thousand suns, forcing the demon to recoil momentarily. Her scythe, a weapon of gleaming silver and celestial fire, materialized in her hand with a hiss.
Daemon, on the other hand, growled low, his black wings snapping open with a sound like cracking bones. His claws elongated, dripping with a venomous black ichor, and his fangs gleamed in the dim light.
“Stay behind us,” Ana commanded, her voice sharp and unwavering. She twirle
