The skies bled twilight.
Ashes from the fallen Devourspawn still floated in the air, scattering like fragments of a broken nightmare. The ruins groaned beneath their feet as if the world itself mourned the passing of something ancient.
Elias stood in the crater, the glow of his eyes dimming slowly. His chest heaved. Blood leaked from his nose and lips, but he didn't care.
"I killed it," he whispered.
"No," said Ishael, stepping toward him, her voice low and grim. "You unleashed something worse."
And then—
The air cracked.
Like glass shattering in every direction.
Reality bent, groaned—and split open above them like a curtain drawn back too far.
From the tear in the sky, Steve stepped through.
Not hidden.
Not subtle.
He no longer resembled the charming predator in a suit. No, this was Steve in his truest form—his body stretched tall and thin, composed of crimson flames and shadows. His grin was too wide, his eyes two pits of seething, black flame.
