"Not now," the girl snapped, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We don't have time to fight."
Azrael's muscles tensed. His instincts screamed at him to resist—running wasn't something he did often. But the determination in her eyes made him hesitate.
"Trust me," she said.
Before he could respond, she slammed her palm into the ground.
The air around them shifted. A deep, unnatural cold spread outward like ripples in a pond. Then—darkness.
Pure, suffocating blackness erupted from where her hand touched the earth, swallowing everything in its path. The street, the approaching men, the ruined buildings—it was as if the world itself had been swallowed by a void.
Azrael's breath hitched. It wasn't just darkness. It was something alive. He could feel it pressing against his skin, wrapping around him like invisible tendrils.
A dark forge.
The girl had cast a powerful spell, turning the entire area into a domain of shadows.