"Waiiiitttt!"
Aurora's voice cracked across the chamber like a blade splitting the air, sharp and desperate, echoing from vaulted ceilings where shadows clung like watching spirits.
She descended from above, not as the woman Atlas had known, but as something… altered. Her third eye glowed open, wide and blazing with eldritch light.
Her skin had darkened to a hue like charred ash, and her arms shimmered with newly-carved sigils—lines of golden fire and silver burned into flesh, crawling like constellations alive. Her palms burned brightest, pulsing with the same raw power that tethered Galiath in her grip.
Atlas froze mid-strike, his fist suspended inches from Bane's terrified lion-face. The air alone from his halted blow pressed hard enough to burst veins in the beast-king's muzzle, sending blood trailing from his nostrils.
Bane's breaths came ragged, his body trembling in primal fear. He had roared at armies before; now he could not even meet Atlas' gaze.
