The golden swords sliced forward with piercing light, colliding with the onrushing heretic.
But just before they could make contact, a cloak of writhing dark flames burst out around his body like a shield.
Fwoooosh!
The swords struck the flames and hissed, melting into sparks before they could even touch his skin. The light they carried was completely devoured, overwhelmed by the malicious, living fire.
Elsa gasped.
Her arm dropped slightly, her heart pounding in her chest.
She didn't have time to react again.
The heretic, still mid-air, extended one hand toward her.
A swirling orb of black fire rapidly condensed in his palm—its heat intense and suffocating. With a guttural snarl, he hurled it at her.
"Elsa!" Lela screamed from behind.
But Elsa stood frozen.
Her blessing had failed to make a dent. Her swords—powerful, radiant swords—had simply vanished. And now death was flying toward her, wrapped in flame and hatred.
She couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
