The world split apart in light and shadow as Saphira's wings erupted in a tidal blaze, each feather a burning sigil that scoured the crawling darkness beneath her.
Raphaeline, wreathed in violet infernal fire, mirrored her from the opposite side, both of them descending upon Nyxaria like twin comets of flame and ruin.
And Nyxaria welcomed them.
The Corrupted Abyssal Monarch raised a hand. Threads of darkness, thin as spider silk, strong as creation's bones, shot outward in a fractal weave.
They caught the flames and the infernal light, splitting them into a thousand shards that cascaded harmlessly into the black void all around them.
Nyxaria's voice, melodic and fractured, echoed across that very void as she spoke, "The more things change, the more they stay the same. Still rushing in headfirst, Saphira. Still all heat, no grace."
Saphira's eyes burned like dying stars, "And you're still all talk, Nyx."
