Azrael didn't die.

Should have. The blade had pierced exactly where his essence core barely held together. Should have scattered what remained of his consciousness beyond any possibility of recovery.

Instead, something impossible happened.

The Black Flame—guttering, nearly extinct—pulsed once. Not with power. With recognition. With understanding that transcended conscious thought.

There was someone else inside the Chosen Mortal.

Not the Goddess. Not just her power channeled through ...