Vadim PoV
Aventine's blade met Father's with a crack that shook dust from the already fracturing ceiling. The shockwave rolled through the nave like thunder trapped inside stone. I staggered back a step, boots sliding on marble slick with black ichor and my own blood. If not for her, Father would have torn my head off clean.
"Enough!" Aventines roared. "You're losing yourself again! You're being consumed by the Abyss. Or maybe it's your own ideals eating at you again. I helped you back then because I believed in you. I believed the world could be better if someone with your fire stood against the rot. But this—" She gestured at the swirling shadows pouring from his wounds.
