The light projected from Rafire's diadem–an artifact made to capture spirits, ghosts and other phantom beings that possess ounces of magic that had them clinging to the world–caged Flit, undoing his ability to move and suctioning the spirit guardian into itself.
Flit's phantom existence shrank into the crown, and the silver diadem holding a white glassy stone in its center momentarily shone.
Rafire's lips curved into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.
"Emon's slave is now mine!" He roared and then sighted Mark hovering over. The stone atop the diadem shone intermittently, and Rafire raised his right wing, his body still shining like he was dipped in a sun.
Mark grimaced, he had watched as Rafire absorbed Flit into his crown. He was confused and afraid, what was he going to do? Rafire didn't seem this way the last time they fought, and as he drifted above, his confidence, and his certainty over winning began to diminish.
