A blizzard had returned, heavier now, the snow didn't fall, it descended, thick as atmosphere. The sky above was a chaos of purple clouds veining into one another, slow and constant, like bruises blooming across the firmament.
The Rift-fed found me again. Its confusion flickered, then vanished.
I activated Crown, but this time, under Incarnate.
It wasn't just pressure. Or intensity.
It was immersion.
Flames tore across my limbs, my chest, my ribs, curling up the side of my face. My thighs caught last, the heatless storm twisting like it had grown too large to be contained.
It didn't wait in my hands. It spread.
I wasn't holding the fire anymore. I was wearing it.
While it probably looked incredible, I doubted the practicality of fighting like this, flames swarming across my whole body, directionless and wild.
I narrowed my Crown, pulled the fire inward, focused it toward my forearms and hands.
