The laughter of the demon ended, and he sneered, "You cannot command me, Broken Celestial. I am not lightning or made of materials of your Plane, your will is a candle, and I am a star."
With a growl, he threw me, no magic, just pure physical strength, but it was as if the heavens themselves had slammed into me.
The vertebrae in my neck were creaking as I flew backward, tumbling across the crater, and came to rest against the broken body of a Khaazim. My head was pounding, my depth was empty, and all of my channels were dark. I had spent everything I had, and there was no more lightning left inside me.
Vrakth walked toward me. His chest was a ruin of blackened flesh and weeping dark fluid. I could even see a part of his massive heart beating, but this injury was not slowing him down.
"You have wounded me," he said. "No mortal has wounded me in seventy-five thousand years. I will remember you, Elric Voss. I will carry your face into the next age."
