Her Bloom Isn’t Red Anymore
The shadows shrieked, twisting, carrying the whispers of a distant, unseen god: “Aria belongs to me.”
“Not this time,” Vaethea growled. Blades raked, claws tore, crimson energy searing fragments.
The pink - haired goddess descended, slicing tendrils into nothing. Together, the three forced the shadow back, writhing mass reduced to the center.
With a final scream, the fragment collapsed inward. Not gone, not dead — kneeling under godly weight.
Vaethea shook, sweat and divine energy mingling. Claws retracted, wings folded. Aphrodite leaned against her, weakening but alive.
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