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"I suppose I can allow it, just this once." Nightgaunt responds with a smile clear in his voice.

Confident in his teammate's assesment, he leisurely casts his eyes across the hollow gods, choosing his target.

His humor vanishes, seeing Shrike outmaneuvered by one of the empty demons. It blazed in his sight with gathered power, with no corresponding defense from Menagerie.

The vampire clapped his hands together and straightened his dive, dissapearing into the air again and reappearing between the demon and the mage he loved.

He was spun twice, a blur, carving out a broad disk of unreality that fed back on itself, consuming the cold and darkness unleashed by the hollow god.

A small, self-loathing part of his mind observed - too late - that consumptive feedback had nowhere to go except all over him.

The cold was nothing, and the darkness his natural habitat...

but this was something else.

Raphael recognized, distantly, the cold seeping into his limbs and shutting him down like it would have living flesh.

Where before he'd been burnt black and then bleached white by flames, now his flesh shriveled, necrotized, and froze. He exhaled red crystals and plummeted the rest of the way to the ground, unmoving.

He cratered the pavement as an unyielding, frozen manniken, both legs snapped off and his right arm shattered beneath the impact.

The view of the pavement his still intact eye could see through his helmet left much to be desired.