Across the shattered field, Malcolm looked already half dead, his gray-green skin now the hue of cold ash. His skeletal fingers dug into the armrests of the bone litter, knuckles bleaching with strain.
As keeper of the Door of Reincarnation, Malcolm understood the shape of power better than scripture. What poured from Jared was the antithesis of every cycle he commanded.
Chaos met reincarnation the way blazing noon met shadowed midnight, and chaos sat the throne.
"Chaotic celestial energy..." Malcolm spat, "The ultimate predator of reincarnation power."
"Quit hoarding your strength, Morven. If we don't tear him apart right now, when he matures we'll all be ashes, every realm, every sky!"
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