Sylvia stood in the middle of the rocky plain, still littered with ash and the stench of charred flesh. The Nether Flame around her body had vanished, the chains that had just slaughtered the priests and paladins withdrawn into the Void, though they still trembled faintly as if hungry for more.
Her crimson eyes fixed on the west the direction she knew those holy men had come from.
The Church.
A single word that sent cold fury coursing through her chest.
She could march now, step after Void Step, until she reached their sanctum and drown it in violet fire.
But her feet stopped.
Behind her, Alicia was still struggling to stay upright, staggering, her staff fractured nearly in two. Stacia leaned weakly against stone, face pale, lips bluish, blood dripping steadily from her wounded arm.
Sylvia turned. Her gaze softened.
Anger could wait.
But they her sisters could not.
