Tenebria was pinned against the invisible wall of the high air.
She looked small. The huge, crushing presence of the Overlord had shrunk to fit a body. Her left arm was gone. Her right hung limp, stripped of Wrath. The violet of Pride was broken; the green speed of Envy was cut.
She was breathing in short, fast gulps.
"You can't do this," she stammered, her eyes darting everywhere but at me. "I am the collection. I am the sum. You can't subtract from infinity!"
"You aren't infinity, Tenebria," I said, and took one step toward her on the air. "You're a sum. And I'm solving for zero."
I raised my free hand.
The blue Mana and the violet Miasma inside me turned together and ran down my arm, not into the sword, but out into the air behind me.
Circles opened there.
One. Two. Three. All the way to ten.
Ten concentric rings of grey light hung at my back, turning slowly. They weren't made of fire or ice. They were made of script, the command lines the world runs on.
