Thankfully, the armor held firm long enough for Atticus to descend from the skies like an avenging angel, lopping off Alistair's head with one clean sweep of his sword.
The air became thick with the scent of blood. Some of it splattered onto Daphne's face and clothes but that was the least of her worries. She heaved a sigh of relief and rolled herself upright as Atticus hastily pried Alistair's body off hers with his powers, throwing it near his head.
"Daphne, are you alright?" Atticus grabbed her by her shoulders, looking over her frantically.
"I'm fine, but the syringe!" Daphne exclaimed.
She quickly reached into her pockets, only heaving out a sigh of relief when she realized the glass was still in one perfect piece. Good. It hadn't shattered during the tumble.
