—and at the last moment, Skotia is there. Because he alone can see with the eyes of the gods, here and now; because the sound of Bella’s howl is like a knife slipped between his ribs, and he can barely contain old memories that do not belong to him, which insist, demand, plead that he be there for her; because the heroine must be saved from stupid selfless sacrifice by the hero, who values her pure heart but sees clearly what she does not. At the last moment, Skotia is there, and his fingers are around Bella’s wrist, and his heel becomes the axis of the world, as he pulls Bella from her course like a moon pulling a comet into its orbit, as he holds his ground and her unstoppable momentum yanks her to one side, away from the serpent’s hungry jaws just waiting for her, and as he turns, he pulls off his jacket and—

It’s not just a jacket. That’s the thing. Even torn by Bella’s claws, even unbuttoned and disheveled, the jacket belongs to Skotia, to the night, to the privacy of lovers, to the destroyer of kingdoms, to the ruin of man, to the one foe more implacable than Thanatos.

Skotia flings Empty Night into the face of the Azura assassin, and it unravels, floods the room from wall to wall, and there is no light, for

[i]O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
The captains, merchant bankers, eminent serpents of letters,
The generous patrons of art, the lawyers and the rulers,
Distinguished civil servants, senators of many committees,
Fleet admirals and sailors second class, all go into the dark,
And dark the eye of Apollo and Artemis, and the Auspex alike
I said to my name, do not be still
but let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the kindness of your God[/i]

and there is no light, for they are in a corridor and the lights have all been washed away, but his body is on hers and she is digging a groove into his back as she flings herself against him again and again, building to the strike that will break him like a wall and leave him in pieces as she bounds heedless to her doom, and he is murmuring her name as the skin splits under her silver talons, and the only way that he can say [i]I love you[/i] is refusing to move, by saying [i]she’s coming after you,[/i] by saying [i]we have to run,[/i] and don’t worry, Bella, his undershirt was wet and stained before you began to struggle against him, and now that the SP’s a room and a scene and a hard transition away you can smell him more clearly, can’t you, the sweat and the blood and the desperation to try and protect [i]you,[/i] of all people, as if he thinks that you’re something that’s worth protecting, and one hand cups your ear and rubs it gently as he refuses to allow you any other choice but relenting or destroying him.

[Skotia rolls a [b]10[/b] to [i]Overcome[/i] the threat of Thist.]