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Lunair's sword had disappeared when it left his hand.

~I am willing to die for Pretoria.~ ~Then so be it. From this point forward, you are not a seraph. You are more. You are greater. Go forth, Archangel Lunair, Seraphim.~

Pretoria, behind Lunair, would be the only one to see as on Lunair's back, a tattoo appeared, his Seraph contract, but rather than the single pair of wings, a second set, below the first, and a crown above the wings appeared... right before Lunair's bands reappeared. with the band's reappearance, so too did Lunair's wings, two sets, one smaller than the other, bursting from his back, glowing with a purifying white light. opening his eyes again, Lunair held his hand up, a very solid, very white sword forming in it. "I wont let you use Pretoria anymore."

Two contradicting forces surrounded Pre. Her eyes widened as they both crushed her aura and knocked her out. Her eyes turned white and she collapsed to the ground unconscious just as she managed to summon her tome. The ancient book that was given to her on her coming of age ceremony years ago. It was precious to her, but she was willing to lose it if it meant she could get to Lunair. That was what she was going to give Ezra. It vanished again and reappeared in the man's hands.

There was no perception of motion, Jesse simply wasn't where the sword was. He took a few steps back, flourishing the five-foot long sword and swiping it overhand, above his head, causing it to hum through the air. "What you don't understand, is she had two halves. One I do not know. The other is almost as black-hearted as me, and loves nothing more than my company. That half, wishes to be stronger, and actively absorbs corruption from myself." His grin widened, as he continued slashing one handed, his blade becoming an x of fire that got closer and closer to Lunair with each sweep.

After one great sweep of his wings, that created a powerful gust of wind, he brought both metal footpaws up, and kicked at the male, aiming for his chest. He flitted back, hovering slightly out of reach. "Leave, and I won't kill you. This is your last chance." He swallowed. "PreToria will go with you."

He growled. His fingers hooked a bit, and his ear that wasn't torn all to shreds flicked back against his head in an aggressive pose. "If she returns, she is mine." He said simply. "You have no power here. The very stones ooze darkness. Can't you feel it? The great tide of my power, flowing through this place? Leave. And I will let you live. No compromises."

He growled, turning and settling back on the ground. "I was ancient when this world was created, youngling." He shoved his sword away, lifting a budle of clothing with one of the special swords on it, the ones that shifted to the user's proficiency. He went back into the library, and stood at the end of the vat. "You're almost done, Durithill."