He floated in the trapped dark, split open, and he had never looked more like an Emperor.
The gash across his chest wept freely, and yet Noah's body did not so much as sway! He hung in the storm with his crown gleaming and his shoulders level, dark bluish hair drifting in the pressure-winds of a Cenozoic enemy, and his blood…his blood did not fall.
It swirled!
Stellar crimson-blue-gold blood rose from his wound in slow, glorious ribbons, coiling around his figure like loyal serpents of burning light, each droplet threaded with Primeval Osmontian Cells that glimmered against the dark, and the sight of it silenced parts of the party that Lissana's attack had been meant to embolden! For wounded things were supposed to diminish. Prey was supposed to shrink when cut!
And the crowned figure before them bled upward, wore his own blood as regalia, and gazed ahead with nothing on his face but calmness.
