Far away from the tranquil island resort, in the cold, oppressive shadows of an interstitial dimension, a ragged gasp shattered the silence.
Fenice clawed at the stone floor, her once-beautiful face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated agony. She retched violently, coughing up mouthfuls of corrupted, black blood. The recoil from Noir's ancient divine purification had not merely broken her curse on Solis; it had travelled back through the magical tether and struck her own soul with the force of a falling meteor.
"No..." Fenice hissed, her voice a grating, demonic rasp. "This cannot be happening. I am a god!"
