The first shard hit the courtyard like falling starfire. Then the entire western facade exploded inward as a gale of divine wind tore through the academy.
Zian's shadow legion snapped into formation, shields locking as Nyxara descended through the raining glass. The fallen angel's current host was a first-year student—their skin splitting with golden cracks, eyes leaking molten light.
*"Did you miss me, little general?"* Nyxara's voice overlapped the child's whimpers.
Another memory surged—
*—Nyxara's blade sliding between the God's ribs. The sound of her own wings tearing—*
Zian's hands ignited. Twin flares of light and shadow erupted as her full legion manifested, their war cries shaking the foundations.
Kaen laughed, low and dangerous. *"Now this is interesting."* He flicked his wrist, and the shadows between buildings twisted into barbed chains.
Nyxara snapped her fingers. Holy fire incinerated the front ranks of Zian's army. The loss carved through her like a physical wound—each vanished soldier taking fragments of her newfound memories with them.
*"You'll need more than ghosts,"* Nyxara taunted.
Zian charged anyway, her borrowed dagger blazing with unstable power. The first clash sent shockwaves through the courtyard, toppling pillars.
Kaen appeared at her ear, his breath frost against her skin: *"She's testing you. The real war begins when you remember how you fell."*
Above them, the blood-red moon pulsed like an open wound.