"He hasn't been heard of for hundreds of years," Veyrn muttered, clenching his jaw, sweat mixing with the dirt on his face.
"If that's truly the moon god, then the only explanation is that his worshipers somehow resurrected him recently..."
His eyes flicked to the divine circle blazing in the sky, then back to the thousands of moonlight spears that continued to rain down, carving the earth into a landscape of craters and silvery fire.
"Which means," he continued, his voice steadier now, "he'd be severely weakened. Resurrection, even for a god, comes at a price. His vessel must still be adjusting—his Authority shouldn't be this stable. He can't possibly keep this up for long."
"Are you gambling on that?" Harrow growled, hurling another shard of obsidian-black energy into the air, which expanded into a temporary shield dome around them.
It cracked instantly beneath the assault but slowed the next wave of spears just enough for them to catch their breath.
