“I can strike once, with the power you have allotted me,” Ozmanthus said. “Afterwards, you will not be able to project me again for quite some time without destabilizing my memory.” Lindon turned to face Malice, as her attack seemed most imminent. “Which target would you prefer?” Ozmanthus barked a laugh. “I thought you knew me well. I said one attack…” Suddenly, towering ancient armor swallowed him, so he hovered at the center of a giant that stretched from the ground to the clouds. It reminded Lindon strongly of Malice’s bloodline armor. A gray, translucent cloak billowed from the Forger
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