Zerathul now felt even more fear about his own fate. It crept through him like a fracture spreading through crystal, subtle at first, then impossible to ignore.
That fear disrupted his focus and the imbalance showed immediately.
The black necrotic radiance he commanded began to recoil, its advance faltering as Khepra Ankh's white light surged forward.
The contrast sharpened brutally. Where darkness had once devoured space it was now being pushed back, peeled away layer by layer, erased rather than resisted.
Zerathul staggered in the air and his control started to slip even further.
Confusion ripped through his thoughts. This should not have been possible. Krono should have been gone. Absorbed, and consumed already. He should already be reduced to power and memory within him. And yet, the presence remained.
