Isiah had noticed it the very first time he unleashed magic against those goat-headed monstrosities: a microscopic trace of divine energy was insidiously leaking into his dark spells without his permission.
It felt as though that residual divine energy had taken root deep within the shadows of his soul. Because the amount was so minuscule, it remained entirely unnoticeable most of the time. Yet the moment he channeled his diabolic core to cast a spell, he could feel that subtle, warm current surging through his veins, confusing and deeply unsettling him.
The sound produced when his point-blank spell detonated against the creature's face was sickeningly loud. It resembled the harsh, violent hiss of red-hot iron plunged into thick ice. The dense, volatile orb melted through the creature's facial structure in seconds, and for a long moment, Isiah kept his palm pressed firmly against the melting flesh to ensure the spell completed its dark work.
