CorRupTEd [Lowfoam and AlexieD]

[AlexieD]

Cyra stared at him, her lips pulling into a frown. None of this made any sense. none of it. She was glad, however, when his eyes opened, and the wound Sister had made began to close. Cyra scraped at the last of the Hive venom with her hands, dredging the black, tar-like substance away from his body. "Okay." She said. Some part of her didn't like that he said spark. Shouldn't her light be stronger than that?

She didn't know. Everything here was much more confusing than she thought it might be. She was just glad small snippets were beginning to make sense. Cyra looked up at him, understanding home. She really did. She just couldn't remember it. She cast a glance at Sister. Would she be mad? Cyra bit her lip and got to her feet, leaning against a rock.

Rita was still on the ground, the tempest subsided. She hadn't moved. She made no indication that she heard Leviathan whatsoever. She was compliant even when he grabbed her, only muttering a muted murmur when he spoke to her.

She did, however, react when a knife was buried into her gut, sliding into delicate skin and organs. The Warlock had suffered worse in her life, but she'd had light to help buff the wounds. And it wasn't there. She'd been lost to the dark for quite some time. Her body stiffened, muscles tensing. Energy crackled over her body, good and bad. And rather anticlimactically, Rita slumped over, losing consciousness, gone boneless. The arc blade disappeared, her body eagerly eating up the light - and from the wound, black sludge dribbled out.

The forces were warring. And it looked as thought the light were winning. Cyra emerged from the rock, dashing over.

"Is-is she okay? I don't know what's-"

There came a terrifying, terrible screech, and more balls of hellfire appeared, warping in several batches of thralls. They clattered and shrieked as they advanced on the trio. Cyra tensed, fear in her eyes.

"We have to go! God's angry! Brother, we have to *go!*"