But before Mark's body could fully heal itself, the space behind him twisted silently and collapsed inward as if folded by an unseen hand. Freya emerged from that distortion without a sound, her presence perfectly concealed until the instant she chose to strike.
Unlike Max's power which announced itself through overwhelming pressure, Freya's power was layered and intricate, woven together with such precision that even Mark's divine senses reacted a fraction too late.
Her eyes were calm, almost cold, as countless interlocking runes of light manifested around her body, each rune rotating at a different rhythm and carrying a different law that fed into the next with flawless harmony.
Freya raised her hand and the world itself seemed to pause as her authority unfolded. Space bent, time slowed unevenly, and causality twisted into a fragile thread as her power converged into a single point.
