The God of War stepped through the rift before Varen answered.
The wound across Darius's side had closed beneath the broken armour. His right arm still ended at the elbow. Black markings crossed the restored flesh, and the iron-grey eyes lifted toward the eight demons above the encampment.
Something pressed against his presence as he entered.
The Aether around his remaining hand tightened, its faint radiance shrinking closer to his skin. The god paused, then completed the step.
Varen noticed.
So did Simon.
The prince lowered himself slightly, although he remained well above the camp.
"God of War," he said evenly. "I believe we can discuss this without further losses."
The god looked around. Rows of demons stood motionless beneath his attention. Those who had struggled against Simon's killing intent now found something worse occupying the space behind them.
"Can we?"
"Blackmoon has not accepted my offer. No oath has been sworn."
"Yet you promised to keep him from me."
