"Which god gave you the divinity that was used in Sunshear?"
For a moment, Varga's fury faltered.
Of all the things the demon could have asked, that question was the last he expected.
Why did he care which god the divinity belonged to?
More importantly, how did he know the weapon was called Sunshear?
That name was used only by Ironcrest's command staff and the Runemasters responsible for maintaining the weapon. No soldier had shouted it on the battlefield, and no mark bearing its name could be seen on the cannon's exterior.
Simon was a demon, and he was not meant to know.
Questions crowded Varga's mind, but the blood spreading beneath his boots pulled his attention away from them.
Mirela was dead.
His officers were dead.
Every human who had stood in the chamber with him had been killed in moments, and the demon responsible now stood across the command table as though their lives had possessed no value.
His confusion disappeared beneath his rage, and Varga's Aether erupted.
