Sublime

The gold-armored man plunged down with a blow from a two-handed cleaver that warped space around it, striking the leviathan’s scales and blowing a hole in the ocean.

Lindon’s right arm blazed with overwhelming, ravenous hunger. It writhed like a bag of snakes, as though every muscle in it had come to life separately. And the scripted cloth Malice had used to seal the limb finally unraveled. The desire to steal, to devour, to take everything hit Lindon in a wave. Above and behind him, reality twisted as an Icon

His boots were dark and practical, his pants black, his shirt crisp white and missing the sleeves. The chains that spiraled up his tanned arms glistened in the sun, reflecting light like a steel mirror. An otherworldly cloak, woven from what looked like solid shadows, rose from the ground behind him. It flowed like a cape, untouched by the breeze,