"As I have said many times before, I am the god of this world," Mark said with a satisfied smile as he snapped his fingers. The snap echoed like a verdict, and reality obediently steadied itself. Time resumed its steady current, the chaotic surges of infernal energy that had convulsed the land evaporated, and the surroundings returned to an eerie calm as though nothing momentous had occurred.
Lucien watched the change with a curious tilt of his head, his eyes tracking the faint smoke that still curled from the ground. "That was not your full strength, was it?" he asked, studying Mark as if measuring the distance between a mask and a face.
Mark inclined his head once in acknowledgement. "No," he admitted, his smile never leaving his features. "I am at one third of my full strength for now, because I possess only one third of my full soul."
