"Bring me his head."

"Yes, My Queen."

Lifting Astra's hand to his lips, Seth kissed it softly and in the process, he was glad that he had his hood up. Because he wasn't able to control his expression for much longer, and could hide it behind the confident, empowering mask of Lord Corvus.

But in reality... all he could focus on was the ice cold touch of her hand against his. With the peaks in his power level brought on by the Lightbringers doubts, and the connection to blood that it brought with it Seth could feel her blood without even touching her.

Or more specifically, her lack of it. With every peak came the orchestra of rhythmic hearts, and contained within it was the weak and arrhythmic pulsations of Astra's heart as it desperately clung to life. It was like watching the tiny flame of a candle, flickering softly in the wind as it had burned down to the last few centimetres of its wick.

Despite all of the peaks in power, despite all these abilities he was generating and losing, despite all of this Worship flooding into his body every second and filling him to the brim with power that could equal the divine.

He was absolutely useless. He couldn't generate new blood, only feel her current lack of it desperately trying to keep her alive. He couldn't use his divine gift to perform a miracle, only stand to the side and watch someone else save her.

It wasn't as if he hadn't tried. With every moment he had been touching her, and every moment that his Worship peaked, he tried to will it into obeying him to heal her. But there was something fighting against her. A foreign presence, Divine Energy lingering within her that stopped his ham-fisted attempts to perform his miracle.

Whether it was the Lightbringers energy, or something else entirely. It didn't matter. It was stopping him from doing the one thing he wanted most.

As if the world was expressing sympathy for his pain, the dark clouds above began to weep with the sadness that dwelled within his heart. Heavy droplets of water fell from the heavens, crashing down onto the ground around him and battering against the cloth hood of his cloak.

Ink moved over his arm as he let her hand go, his gauntlet reforming around his hand. But that was not all. A new object formed in his hand.

A long hooded cloak composed of black feathers was clutched tightly in his hand. He gently rested it across Astra, covering part of her body to shield not only her dignity, but shield her body from the rain.

Although it wouldn't hurt her too much with her energy drained, it would still hurt her a little. And that was more than he could bear.

It was truly a terrible day for rain.

"I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if you discuss what you saw here, do I? Or what will happen if she dies on your watch."

Although his gaze was fixed on the ground, the sound of his chilling and morbidly dark tone made the Healer flinch slightly in fear. With a meek and trembling voice, he spoke softly.

"N-No Sir."

"...Good."

Then, without another word, Astra's sword left Seth's hand, floating in the air next to him, as he turned away and dissolved into the shadows once more.

He might not have been able to save Astra the way the healer could, or use his new found power to help her. But there was something he could do for her.

Something that he had seemed perfectly suited for, even if he refused to do it all but once before.

***

Before the Lightbringers very eyes, which the deranged horde of wretched undead were still trying to claw out, Lord Corvus rose from the shadows like true demon rising from the depths of hell itself.

He rose from the cold, envoloping embrace of the darkness cast by his divine light, and continued into the air. Floating a few feet above the ground, as if he was too good to use his own two feet, while his billowing black cloak of smoke poured over the battlefield.

Many thoughts ran through his head at this sight, some of them based in fear, others based in self deluded arrogance while others were based on anger. But the only important thought was a singular line, that inadvertantly spelled his doom.

'That bastard really does have control over shadows.'

A similar thought crawled into the minds of all those witnessing this brawl of divinity, nestling in their minds whether they were aware of it or not. The very moment that thought crossed all of those minds, the shifting and inconsistent feeling within Seth's body turned solid and rigid.

The malevolent chill of the shadows seeped into his bones, and rooted itself there. He was bound to them, and in turn they were subservient to his will. A binding put in place simply by pure belief that it already existed... and so now it did.

"Lightbringer... A prayer has been made in earnest for your head. And what kind of God would I be if I did not answer such a prayer?"

Reaching out to the side, Seth's fingers curled around the severed arm that manifested itself in his grasp. The arm was grey as stone and held in its grasp a crystal orb, that contained a swirling mass of crimson blood.

It was the hilt of the [Requiem of Blood], the weapon of Lord Corvus that he had gained in one of his first true battles, and which still served him dutifully. So long as it could be fed the blood of stronger creatures, the blade would only grow in strength to match.

It was perfect, and perhaps it could become much stronger if it was fed the Lightbringers blood. But that's not who's blood Seth had in mind at the moment.

Instead he focused on the wayward energy swirling inside him, the energy of Worship that was still pouring into him and washing back out. Its levels only increased as the spectacle carried on and more Worship filled the air from their captive audience.

He focused on his blood, and on the black heart rhythmically beating in his chest, as he stirred it within his veins in a poor attempt to recreate what the dragon had done to get him here. It was clumsy and childish, like a toddler with a crayon trying to create the Mona Lisa.

It was something he would never be able to do... but he didn't have to. He had never had to before, so why start now? All he had to do was feel his desire and force it into existence. The energy would do the rest, forming itself in whatever way it saw fit in order to fulfil that wish in some way.

When the next peak in power came, it was time for him to perform his Miracle. It was not a request he made of the energy, nor a simple expression of desire. But an order, a demand from a God that the energy would obey, as if it was a divine proclamation.

'Give me a weapon that will kill him!'

His heart beat increased, the blood boiling in his chest as it flew through his veins with every beat of his black heart, before it began to congrigate in his hand. Guided by the swirling energy, his blood oozed out of the pores of his fingers, forced itself out of the gaps in his armour and began to crawl over the weapon hilt in his hand.

It crawled like a living ooze, squirming its way towards the orb at the base of the hilt. And all the while, the Lightbringer watched on in a mixture of rage and horror.

'No, No, NO! He's performing a Miracle?! How?! How does he have better control over Divine Energy than me?! It's not possible! I need to... I need to stop this now!'

Light grew from within the Lightbringers throat and behind his pure white eyes, as his face twisted with rage. He squirmed and struggled in the building dog pile of undead, throwing them off of his body and batting them away as the Light moved up in his throat until it congregated in his head.

His entire skull became illuminated within, the bones appearing black against his translucent skin, before he opened his mouth wide and let the energy fly.

Three beams of searing light scorched across the air, the rain sizzling away into steam before it could even touch the beams. The three combined into one, streaking across the air in an instance, heading straight towards the chest of the floating God of the Dead.

A wall of pure darkness leapt up from below, rising out of nowhere and standing firm against the encroaching beam. The scorching light struck the chilling shadows, neither giving way nor yielding to their opposite.

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