In an unexpected maneuver, William altered his course, veering sharply downward in a dizzying descent towards the ground. His body was a fluid arc, a fusion of strength and agility as he hurtled through the night air. To the eyes of Seraphine's puppet Ascenders, he was nothing more than a swift, indistinct blur, a fleeting shadow that defied their attempts to track him.
As he plummeted, the mage Ascenders unleashed a renewed onslaught of long-ranged attacks. Arcs of electricity, bolts of fire, shards of ice, and swirling gusts of wind were conjured with malevolent intent, each spell a deadly missile aimed at his heart.
But William's descent was a masterful dance of evasion and control. His wings angled for maximum maneuverability, he twisted and turned, spiraling through the barrage with a grace that belied the danger. Each attack that came his way was met with a deft sidestep or a skillful roll, his body responding with instinctive precision.
