Thor's eyes widened in horror.
He had seen madness. He had seen monsters. But what now stood before him—what this anomaly had become—was no longer a man, no longer even a corrupted god.
This… this was something else. Something wilder. A being untethered from fate and reason of the cosmos they once knew.
Clyde's body still held the shape of his former self, but the essence was unrecognizable.
His once-human features had changed. His white hair now floated around his head like an ethereal crown, sweeping in wild arcs with each breath and shooting storms of black mist around.
His skin was lined with jagged glowing black cracks, as if something inside him was trying to tear its way out.
Elderglass sword pulsed like a dying star in his right hand, and Dusksorrow sword screamed silently in the left.
The air around him bent unnaturally, as though the laws of the world were trying—and failing—to deny his existence.
Michael faltered midair.
