Serana felt the shift immediately.
The false deity her master had fought—it wasn't dead. Not truly. Its vessel had only been a husk, a mutable shell capable of taking on many forms. Just like her.
But unlike her, it had paid a price.
It had sacrificed most of its flesh to preserve what mattered most: its heart and its mana core.
Now, concealed behind the curtain of darkness, the creature was reforming. Its remains were fading, discarded like shed skin. Deep within the shadows, its true self began to take shape—an enormous bat-like form, pulsing with corrupted mana.
Both its heart and core had survived, and that was the problem.
As long as either existed, the creature could not die.
And both were now rapidly absorbing mana from the environment, healing themselves with every passing second.
But this restoration worked both ways.
Serana was also back to full strength.
