silver crimson black.

Crimson blood covered Lynn's right side, the same blood that was splattered all over Damian's face.

He saved me—

Dominic's body was ruined, bone and sinew exposed, fragments of his skull sticking to the asphalt. There was almost nothing left of his head; the man who had trained with Damian, the man who had served as his guard for so many years—was gone.

Damian turned and retched, bile dribbling from his empty stomach.

Not another not another not another notanother—

"Damian! HELP!"

Time seemed to drag, as though the world had been immersed in thick molasses. 

The Apostles advanced on the car, their expressionless masks turned towards Damian. There was no doubt in his mind that they had come to kill him—they had come to murder him as they had murdered his father.

Lynn's left hand was extended, summoning a burst of Angelic power from the Aspect of Wrath.

Help? Who asked for help? Who can I  possibly help?

Damian turned, his thoughts sluggish, his movements slowed. Across the bridge, Tia had been thrown clear from the car, her leggings ripped, her thighs bleeding. Two Apostles advanced on her independently of the rest, singling her out as the next weakest to kill.

No no no! I won't lose anyone else, I won't I won't I won't IwontIwontIwont—

Time quickened, attempting to resume its usual pace, but Damian wouldn't let it. First his father, then Dominic, next Tia? No, he wouldn't lose anyone else, he wouldn't—

—
Damian slammed his foot down, and extended his left hand. 

The signet ring of the royal family glowed on his finger. The tiny Cinder contained within the ring had been passed down through the Roswald lineage for five generations, and now it rested on Damian's hand. That ring contained the Blessing of the Angel given to the first Roswald, the first King of Sidralis.

Even if Damian himself had been spurned by the Angel, his forefathers had not. He channeled all his desperation, all his anger, all his focus into the Regalia, using that brilliant ruby as the catalyst for his invocation.

His mouth opened wide in a snarl, his eyes fixated on the Apostles approaching Tia. The blonde-haired maid looked at Damian, one hand reaching towards him, begging him for help.

I won't fail you. I WILL NOT—

"ASPECT OF WRATH UNLEASHED!"

The ancient Flame awakened in his soul, coursed through his veins, boiled his blood, flooded into the Rosa Regalia, connected with the Cinder and—

"LEFT FIST OF THE ANGEL!"

Damian's body lurched forward, propelled by unnatural forces from the heavens above. This was one of the few moves he'd ever practiced with the Aspect of Wrath—the Aspect that had always spurned him, the Aspect that had rejected him for most of his life. 

He crossed the bridge in the blink of an eye. The Apostles turned, but they were moving too slowly to match the unbridled wrath of the Flame.

Time resumed the moment Damian's fist collided with the first Apostle's chest. 

Ribs shattered beneath the force of the blow; blood bloomed in a crimson rose; and Damian's fist continued straight through, smashing into the second enemy. Bones crumbled as his fist plowed through both ribcages like they were paper. He struck the second Apostle's heart, and the organ collapsed, coating his clenched hand with sticky blood.

The Flame-blessed attack exploded with the force of the Angel's fury. 

Damian ripped his arm free from both of his enemies just as Angelic flames overtook their bodies. The Apostles were little more than standing corpses now, but their knees refused to give way. They stood, consumed by the brilliant flames of the Angel, their bodies flaking away like—

"—ashes to the wind."

The voice whispered in his right ear.

Damian whipped around, but there was nobody standing there on the bridge. The Blessing retreated from his fist, leaving his limbs trembling with the after-effects of channeling the Angel's power. The left sleeve of his jacket had been torn and ripped, and every inch of his flesh was stained red.

Tia looked up at him, her eyes wide, her pupils reduced to pinpricks. 

A wave of heat washed over the pair of them, and Damian turned to see Lynn wielding a flaming sword, striking down the remaining Apostles. Her movements were graceful, but her actions were the work of a trained killer. With every stroke of her Angelic weapon, the enemy fell; the Apostles backed away, attempting to summon their powers—but they were merely low-level clergy. 

Against a fully trained member of the Flameguard, the Apostles were cut down one-by-one, their wounds ablaze with the Angel's fury.

Silence reigned.

As quickly as the attack had begun, it was over. In the distance, police sirens rang loudly, and over his shoulder, Damian saw concerned passersby crowding at the bridge's entrance.

"We have to go," he said hoarsely. 

With his cleaner right hand, he pulled Tia to her feet. The young maid averted her eyes from the flaming corpses. She trembled against Damian's body, holding on to him tightly, her strength gone.

The pair approached Lynn, who extinguished her blade with a flick of the wrist. Dominic's body lay between them, nearly unidentifiable except for his bulk. Hot tears threatened to spill down Damian's cheeks. 

How many more will die for me?

The words wouldn't come. He wanted to lay Dominic to rest, but there were no eyes to close, and no time to move his body. The police were coming, and he was sure they would secure the scene—but there was no guarantee they would be allies. 

"We need to keep going."

Lynn's words roused Damian from his thoughts. She was covered in blood, her red hair matted with much brighter scarlet. Her armor had taken most of the damage, and she favored one side of her body, as though the other had taken a painful blow. 

"The safe house isn't too far from here. If we hurry, we can make it—"

—on foot, had likely been Lynn's next words. But before she could voice her suggestion, the bridge beneath their feet groaned and shifted.

Damian looked down and saw the asphalt warping, twisting beneath his shoes. No… it wasn't the ground itself, but rather—

"Deepshadow!"

The Apostles hadn't used up all their tricks—they had one final ability left, the power granted to all members of the Deep, the power that made Tenebrae such a force to be reckoned with. Wherever shadow existed, it could be polluted with the Deep, turning it into a catalyst—a direct link to the Angel of the Deep.

"MOVE!" Lynn cried, charging Damian with a body tackle. Tia, still clutching Damian's chest, gave a sudden cry.

Damian was powerless to stop Lynn's overwhelming force as he slammed into the bridge's railing and tipped over the edge. His arms windmilled uselessly, and Tia fell from his grasp, screaming all the way. Lynn tumbled after him, and as he twisted in midair, he looked back up at the bridge. The stoneworks that had lasted for countless generations cracked and crumbled, consumed by a writhing mass of black tentacles bursting forth from the depths of the Void.

The bridge collapsed, taking with it the bodies of Dominic and the fallen Apostles, the car and the tram, all raining down into the river.

Then Damian hit the surface, and the shock of the ice-cold water knocked all conscious thought from his mind. Darkness stole over his vision, and he remembered no more.