Elliot Von Starlight was fighting like a man walking through a dream or a nightmare. His blade moved with automatic precision, but his soul was fractured, scattered across the distance between the physical world and the void where his friend had been swallowed.
He pulled his sword arm back three separate times in mid-swing, the motion stuttering like a broken machine. His eyes kept drifting, drawn like moths to a flame, toward that empty, mocking patch of corridor where Apollo had vanished.
The lapse was nearly fatal. Twice, the cold bite of a demon's blade had whistled toward his carotid artery, the steel mere millimeters from opening his throat before a flash of silver intervened.
Clang!
Evelyn appeared between them, her blade intercepting the demon's axe with such force that sparks showered Elliot's face. She didn't scold him, and she didn't shout.
