Meanwhile, Gaya's transformation was reaching its climax in the forest. The black, oily substance continued to ooze from her pores, pooling on the ground around her, the stench of it making Fayeth's stomach churn.
And then… the sky… cracked.
Bolts of lightning, not the pale blue of Kranar's pathetic little sparks, but a deep, vibrant purple, shot across the sky, illuminating the swirling storm clouds that were gathering above them. These weren't normal storm clouds. They were darker, more… menacing, their edges tinged with a sickly green that spoke of something ancient and powerful. Despite his armor and power, Michael felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the static electricity in the air making his skin tingle.
He could sense the celestial energy pouring into Gaya, a torrent of raw power that was… reshaping her, transforming her, elevating her to a level beyond mortal comprehension.