For a short time, neither of them could control their bodies. They were tossed through the sky like broken weapons, crashing through dust, stone, and dying light until both of them forced themselves to stop.
Max's breathing was ragged. Blood ran down his chin and dripped from the tips of his claws. His left wing hung strangely behind him, broken enough that every movement sent pain flashing through his spine. The shining darkness around his body flickered, but it did not vanish.
Aurelian hovered across from him, his condition finally looking no better. The angelic avatar was shattered, barely holding together around his body, one wing gone and the faceless head cracked open. His ruined skin had been burned black along one side of his face, and golden blood flowed from his mouth, chest, and the deep claw wound Max had left earlier.
The book floated beside him, its pages turning slowly now as if even that ancient power had been damaged.
