"Ready for a second round, Archangel?" he asked, his silver pupils shining with excitement.
Loriel deployed her wings, an ice lance in each hand. "As long as you do not let me down, Emperor... the dance continues."
...
The tide of lesser demons swept in, with disproportionate limbs, salivating jaws and eyes injected with hatred.
Faced with this apocalypse, Alexander Sulyvhan remained motionless, his long silver hair whipping the air charged with ashes and sulfur. His silver pupils, lodged in the heart of ebony black sclerae, fixed on the horde with surgical neutrality.
At his side, the Archangel Loriel deployed her sapphire wings, her armor of light casting iridescent reflections on the surrounding carnage.
"They are annoying..." murmured Sulyvhan, his voice being a calm whisper that cut through the clamor of screams. "Let me clear the way, Archangel."
