Roll away from the altar - now!
A strange choice of command, but she did as he suggested. Wisdom was enough in her to know that when Vitruvion gave direction in the midst of battle, she was far better responding to them. His vast knowledge, and his ability to see what she otherwise ignored was far too useful. Thus, when he told her to get away from the altar she did so, shoving the bloody body beneath her away - now blinded in both eyes and dead.
Pushing herself around to the side, her body compacted, she rolled under the various pews. Above her a bright, scarlet light suddenly beamed and she then knew what Vitruvion’s command had been about. Ducking her head she averted her gaze, then hid it into the shoulder of the corpse beneath her. One of many. The light streamed for a second or so, but still she waited until peering out of the corner of her eye. Blinking, she paused for a moment, surveyed where she was (atop a body, naturally), and then she slowly got to her feet.
Into the now dim world, the brightness having been dangerous or not. She could not know, but his warning had been enough.
There, collapsed by the altar, was Nevin. Instinct overtook her and she was running for a third time, vaulting artistically over the end of the pew and then charging up the aisle. Desperately, she threw herself into the aura sight, and was on her knees, staring madly at the form of one of the only friends she had.
Would ever have.
She stared as she was faced with two thick strands of power origin before her in him. Gone was the tiny hair strand of rose-tinted divine power - now it was a rope, intertwined with his familiar crimson. What was perhaps worse was the flow of his chakras - at least there were dim of like and their pools contorted, with grief, fear, and intense, base desires. Stare let out a long, slow breath as she saw a new man before her - one of suddenly greater concern than he had been, moments before.
... Well ... came the grim sentiment.
Nevin’s body was, even as Stare knelt by him, wracked in pain as his innate magic and his growing divine magic, was battling against the remnants of the power that had been part of the portal that was being opened. Even if he didn't recognize it, this other power was dark, and carried an inherent maliciousness to the. But -
But it was being overwhelmed, slowly. Because it couldn't be renewed without him trying to pull more in, something he would not, and currently could not do - but his innate magic, and the other, newly innate divine essence, were being replenished, rejuvenating even as they expended themselves. There was a strange, churning twist inside, and his magics enveloped the foreign power, subsuming it. As the turmoil and struggle in his magic ceased, the lines of pain on Nevin’s face faded as his body slowly began to relax.
