The prince looked at him sadly. Before he could say anything, an elf broke through the ring of kithkin and charged forward, a sword in one hand, a reliquary in the other. He charged at the prince, who waited for him to get close, then reached out and grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard until he dropped his sword to the ground.
As he did, the light of his sunlight-fueled reliquary fell across the prince, who rippled and changed once more, cold blue face and hands turning the bright blue of a summer sky. His face grew more pointed and his lips thinner, the weight of old sorrows falling across his shoulders.
***
