"Where... is this?" Luke asked slowly, looking around the ruined courtyard. His eyes were foggy with memories from the shattered reality I'd drawn him from.
He looked down at himself, touching his chest where the false Soltair's sword had left a ribbon of Sunpurge. His black tunic wasn't even damaged. His tail moved restlessly as he pressed a hand to his horn.
"Xiviyah...? Are you here?" he called.
I bit my lip, resisting the urge to fly to him. Across the courtyard, Soltair was struggling with his own identity. He tried several times to summon his power, his face paling when it didn't answer.
"Luxara?" he raised his voice, looking around.
He and Luke saw each other at the same time.
"Where am I?" Luke demanded, drawing his sword. It looked like the blade he'd taken from the Arbiter, with all its familiar weight and balance, but devoid of any real magic. "Where is she?"
Soltair tensed, his expression hardening. "You. Apostle of Curses. Just what foul trickery is this?"
