The laboratory became a vortex of clashing fundamental forces.
On one side stood the original Lucien of the Blackfang—scarred, guilt-ridden, and physically depleted. On the other stood his shadow: a Void-forged mirror image that possessed all of Lucien's lethality but none of his humanity. The air hummed with a frequency that made Gwen's teeth ache, a dissonance between the natural world and the nightmare Sienna had engineered.
"Stay back, Gwen!" Lucien roared, his amber eyes flaring with a desperate light.
He didn't wait for the clone to make the first move. Lucien lunged, his obsidian broadsword trailing a wake of amber fire. The strike was a horizontal cleave designed to bisect his double at the waist. It was a move born of raw, unadulterated instinct.
