I rose above the battlefield and lifted my hand.
Three small runes formed in front of my palm, each no larger than my hand, aligned side by side. They began to rotate slowly, their motion smooth as layers of space folded subtly around them.
Then I drew from the dawn core.
Deathmist flowed outward.
It seeped into the runes, dark and heavy, and the moment it touched them, the entire formation changed. The runes flared faintly, their edges sharpening as the mist condensed, responding to my control.
Behind me, Xeron's presence shifted abruptly.
"Deathmist… how?" he muttered under his breath.
Azalea said nothing, but her focus locked onto me completely.
I didn't respond.
My eyes remained fixed on the three Eternal commanders. They hadn't noticed me yet.
The runes spun faster.
From within them, three arrows began to form. They were made entirely of condensed deathmist, their surface unstable, rippling slightly as space bent around them.
