My entire being focused on Isbeth. She stood behind the altar, almost transfixed. And the endless fury I felt from her joined mine. Her. Seraphena. The true Primal of Life. The one I’d gotten the gift of life and healing from. Not Nyktos. His gift was the shadows in my skin, the death in my touch, and the coldness in my chest. My will swept out from me, rushing over the Bone Temple and the grounds below and beyond. I took a step, and I did so as something infinite. Something Primal
