The air grew thick, oppressive, as Lysander's glowing form dominated the room. His presence felt like judgment itself, a weight pressing down on Mathew, Alden, and Isabel alike. The angel's golden eyes bore into Mathew with a mix of disgust and condemnation.
"Mortal," Lysander said, his voice reverberating like a thunderclap as he addressed Isabel and Alden. "Step away. Your proximity to this filth already marks you for destruction." His gaze turned to Mathew, a sneer curling his lips. "And you… abomination. I was sent by the Silver City to investigate the ripple in the divine threads. I now see the cause."
Lysander stepped forward, his presence suffocating as he loomed over Mathew. "Breaking the spell was a crime. Unlocking forbidden memories and tampering with the balance of the heavens has drawn the gaze of judgment. My orders are clear: to eradicate the stain and all who stand as witnesses."
At the sight of the angel, Udo had vanished, his tiny form dissipating in a faint shimmer of illusion magic. Alden stepped forward, his protective instincts bristling. "You will not harm him!"
But before Alden could take another step, Lysander moved with terrifying speed, grabbing him by the collar. Mathew's body reacted before his mind could catch up. His hand shot out, swatting Lysander's grasp away.
The contact sent a spark of energy rippling through the air. Lysander stumbled back a step, his face twisting in shock. "Impossible," he muttered, his voice losing its usual authority. "A mortal touching an angel's divine form should be obliterated."
"I'm not just a mortal," Mathew said coldly. "And I won't let you hurt Alden."
Lysander's shock morphed into dark amusement. "You think you can stand against me, Nephilim?" he asked, the word laced with venom. "Very well. Let us test your insolence."
Mathew turned to Isabel. "Take Alden and get out of here," he said firmly.
"Mathew—" Isabel began.
"Go!" Mathew barked, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Isabel grabbed Alden's arm and pulled him away, both of them vanishing into the corridor. Lysander watched them leave but made no move to stop them. His attention remained fixed on Mathew, his expression a mix of disdain and curiosity.
"You're brave, I'll grant you that," Lysander said, gripping his sword of light with both hands. "But bravery without power is foolishness."
Mathew clenched his fists, steeling himself. "Come and see just how foolish I am."
Lysander didn't hesitate. With a blinding burst of light, he charged forward, his sword aimed directly at Mathew. The air split with a deafening crack as Mathew barely managed to dodge, the blade grazing his side and sending him skidding across the room.
The force of the impact rattled the mansion, cracking walls and toppling portraits. Mathew gritted his teeth as pain seared through his chest, the shallow wound already soaking his shirt in blood.
"You cannot stand against me, filth," Lysander sneered, walking toward him with calm, deliberate steps. "You are nothing compared to the might of the Silver City."
Mathew forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling under him. "You talk too much," he spat, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
With a roar, Lysander surged forward again, his sword arcing toward Mathew in a blur of motion. This time, Mathew didn't dodge. He raised his arms instinctively, and a shadowy barrier erupted around him. The light of Lysander's blade dimmed upon contact, the angel's face twisting in confusion as the dark energy seemed to drain the sword of its brilliance.
"What is this?" Lysander demanded, pulling back.
Mathew didn't answer. His body moved on its own, fueled by a rage he didn't fully understand. He swung his fist into Lysander's side with all his might. The angel's armor buckled under the blow, sending him flying across the room and crashing into the grand oak doors.
Lysander groaned as he pushed himself up, his golden blood dripping onto the floor. His chestplate was cracked, several pieces missing entirely. One of his wings hung at an awkward angle, its divine light flickering.
"How?" Lysander murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. He stared at Mathew, who stood surrounded by swirling shadows, his eyes alight with a fierce determination.
Mathew's shadow stretched unnaturally behind him, twisting and writhing as though alive. Within it, he glimpsed a distorted reflection of himself—a horn protruding from his temple, his form more monstrous than human.
"You are… an abomination," Lysander whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury.
"Maybe I am," Mathew said, his voice steady. "But I'm not going to let you kill me."
Lysander gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tighter. "Then you will die fighting."
The angel charged again, faster this time, his movements a blur. Mathew barely had time to react, the blade coming within inches of his throat before his shadow lashed out, wrapping around the sword and pulling it away.
They clashed again and again, their battle spilling out into the grand gardens. Each collision sent shockwaves through the ground, uprooting trees and shattering statues. The once-beautiful garden was reduced to a cratered wasteland, filled with dust and rubble.
Mathew's body screamed in protest, his strength waning with each blow. Lysander, too, was beginning to falter, his movements slower, his strikes less precise.
"You fight with desperation," Lysander said, his voice strained as he swung his blade in a wide arc. "You think your darkness can overcome the light? Foolish."
"And you fight with arrogance," Mathew shot back, dodging the swing and landing a punch to Lysander's ribs. "You think your light makes you invincible."
Lysander staggered, coughing up more golden blood, but his resolve remained unbroken. "Your defiance changes nothing," he growled, summoning a dagger of light in his free hand.
Before Mathew could react, Lysander plunged the dagger into his side. Pain erupted through him, his strength draining instantly. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath as the world blurred around him.
Lysander loomed over him, bloodied but victorious. "This is the end," he said, raising his sword for the final blow. "A just end for a creature like you."
Mathew forced himself to look up, his vision swimming. "You call yourself just, but you're just another executioner," he said, his voice weak but defiant.
Lysander hesitated for the briefest moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.
Then, before the blade could descend, a sudden explosion of light engulfed them both. Mathew thought he saw shimmering dust swirling through the air, and for a moment, everything was silent.
Darkness claimed him, and he knew no more.