The change began at her throat.

The choker pulsed once, then again, and crimson light spilled outward like wine across snow, gliding over Evelina’s collarbone, across her shoulders, and down the length of her arms.

At her roots, her white hair began to darken, pale silver deepening by slow degrees into something more decadent, until deep violet waves framed her face, catching the sanctum’s golden light and bending it into something almost profane.

Her clothes shimmered as they tightened briefly against her frame, only to loosen again a moment later.

The white fabric deepened into the color of old wine, while slits opened along the sides and the neckline dipped lower, the whole garment transforming into something far better suited to a very different kind of cathedral.

Behind her, the succubus’s wings unfurled in a slow, deliberate stretch, each measured movement revealing more of the delicate membrane, which caught the light in shades of rose and crimson.

Unlike the Grand Cleric’s radiant wings, these seemed fashioned from shadow given shape, beautiful in the same unsettling way a bloodstain on white silk could be beautiful.

But it was her face that changed most.

The sharp aristocratic lines of it softened into something almost innocent, almost inviting. Her crimson eyes widened and darkened, framed by lashes that seemed to grow longer with every blink.

Her lips parted, full and glistening, and when she smiled, whatever innocence remained vanished at once.

The succubus’s influence rolled from her in quiet waves, not striking the Sanctuary outright, but pressing against it, feeling for weakness, slipping into the places where the divine magic had already begun to wear thin.

The nearest members of the High Council drew in sharp breaths.

One of them, a woman who had been chanting with her eyes closed, stumbled over the words of her prayer. Color rose suddenly in her cheeks, and her uplifted hands drifted down to her sides.

Another, an older man with grey threaded through his beard, found his gaze pulled first to Evelina’s face, then lower, and lower still. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his voice dropped from the chant altogether.

"What is she doing?" Julius muttered, jaw tight, his eyes fixed resolutely on the floor.

"Even I don’t know," Marcellus said.

The Grand Cleric’s wings flared wide, and golden light surged through the chamber, forcing back the worst of Evelina’s influence. The council members steadied themselves, but their chanting had turned ragged, their focus already beginning to splinter.

"You think your corruption can defile this sanctum?" the Grand Cleric called, her voice still carrying that terrible warmth.

"I think..."

Evelina said, and her voice had changed as well, lower now, richer, each word curling around something deep inside the listener’s chest.

"That you’ve spent so long praying to your god that you’ve forgotten how to listen to anything else."

[Euphoria Bloom]

The spell opened from her like a flower in bloom, crimson light unfurling through the chamber in petal-like waves. It did not strike at the Sanctuary directly. It had no need to.

It merely suggested.

The council members shifted where they stood. A young woman pressed her thighs together and bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. An old man’s hands, lifted in prayer, began to tremble with something that was not fear. Another, younger still, let out a low sound in his throat before hastily disguising it as a cough.

[Light Transfer]

ZIP!

Before Evelina realized it, they were already in the sky.

The greyed-out Holy City sprawled far below, its frozen streets and ashen buildings reduced to a distant mosaic. Her wings flapped on instinct, keeping her aloft, while the Grand Cleric hovered several meters away, her own radiant wings spreading wide, the white blindfold somehow doing nothing to hide the weight of her gaze.

"Lady D’Arclight." The Grand Cleric’s voice carried across the open air, warm and almost pitying. "I knew you were evil. But not so evil that you would dare ally yourself with demons."

"Then that means you’re naive."

Evelina moved first.

Dozens of abyssal lances materialized behind her, blotting out the grey sky. She sent them flying in a converging storm, each lance trailing shadow as it hurtled toward the Grand Cleric from every angle.

"Elementary magic."

The Grand Cleric wove through the barrage with fluid grace, her wings twisting, her body shifting between the lances as though she had already seen their paths before Evelina cast them.

But Evelina didn’t relent.

Lance after lance streamed from her hands, forcing the Grand Cleric to dodge, to weave, to never stop moving. And yet the woman in white never seemed pressed.

She wasn’t content to stay on the defensive.

[Guiding Rays]

Wherever the Grand Cleric flew, a radiant tear in space followed in her wake. From each tear, beams of light erupted, spearing toward Evelina with blinding speed.

She twisted in midair, dark magic flaring as it caught the first beam. The second missed her by inches, heat scorching past her cheek. The third and fourth came at once, forcing her to raise a barrier of shadow. It cracked, but held.

The battle between two powerful flying mages had truly begun.

More beams of light followed.

They tore through the air with a sound like ripping silk, too fast to track, too many to block. Evelina’s shadow barrier shattered on the fifth hit, and she hurled herself sideways, wings beating hard as she dropped toward the rooftops below, violet hair streaming behind her.

The gray city rushed up beneath her.

At the last second, she twisted, caught herself against a spire, and kicked back into the sky, a fresh volley of abyssal lances already forming around her.

"You’re persistent," the Grand Cleric said, not even slightly out of breath.

"I’m stubborn."

The lances shot forward.

This time, Evelina didn’t fire them all at once. She kept half of them back, letting them circle behind her in a wide arc while the first wave streaked toward the Grand Cleric. As before, the woman in white slipped between the projectiles with impossible grace.

And then the second wave hit from behind.

Not all of it. The Grand Cleric spun at the last possible moment, folding her wings to soften the worst of the impact, but one lance slipped through and carved a shallow cut across her shoulder. White fabric tore. Thin, golden blood welled along the wound.

The Grand Cleric touched her shoulder, glanced at the blood on her fingers, and smiled.

"You drew first blood." There was no anger in her voice. Only something close to approval. "How long has it been since someone managed that?"

"Don’t know. Don’t care."

Evelina was already moving.

She crossed the distance between them in a blur of shadow and beating wings, her hand shifting mid-flight, nails lengthening into claws that gleamed with demonic light. She slashed for the Grand Cleric’s throat.

The Grand Cleric caught her wrist.

Bare-handed. Without flinching.

"You’re strong," she said, holding Evelina in place as easily as a mother restraining a child. "But strength without discipline is nothing but chaos."

"Your poetic talk is annoying me."

[Succubus Kiss]

The Grand Cleric’s grip loosened.

Only slightly. A tremor. The smallest lapse in those iron fingers. But it was enough. Evelina tore herself free, drove her knee into the Grand Cleric’s stomach, and sent her tumbling backward through the air.

Below them, the gray city trembled.

The damage from their clash spread outward in waves. Buildings cracked under the pressure of their magic. Windows burst in silent showers of glass. A spire that had stood for a thousand years groaned, tipped, and crashed into the street below.

Neither of them looked down.

The Grand Cleric steadied herself, one hand pressed to her stomach where Evelina’s knee had landed. Her white blindfold had slipped, revealing the faint edge of an eye that burned like molten gold.