The man who was once Victor Reyes woke, eyes blazing momentarily with banked sunfire, and listened. Faint, but unmistakable, the voice of one of his own calling out.

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        She came here to make her sacrifices, thinking that she had been discrete enough that nobody would notice. Nobody had ever disturbed her bowl and blade, or the candle she used to sterilize and burn her offerings of herself. Apparently she had been careless though. Today, she was not alone. Human jackals, mistaking her faith as the signs of a cutter, devotion for weakness. Her for prey.

Her voice echoed off the concrete walls, falling into the shadows thrown by the cheap flashlights in her assailant's hands, shrouding more of the wrecked and empty building than they revealed. "... please.. too many, I tried lord, but there are too many... Watching Fury, blood calls for blood, stand beside me now..." the prayer sizzled in the air, a low hum wrapped around her words that lent them an air of majesty even as they were choked off in a bloody cough. The gang didn't notice nor pause, only hearing an empty plea that did nothing to stop another rib from breaking, another blow stuck in vengeance.

In the wake of the wet snap and stifled grunt of pain Anila couldn't quite prevent, a jaguar snarl rippled through the air and one of the shadows burst to life, swatting a man aside and splashing him across a wall like a rotten apple from a slingshot. Another fell, trying in vain to scream as his heart was yanked out and hurled through the head of a third. Bodies snapped and tore, blurred wrath darting from place to place, striking the closest to the woman first. Half of them were on their way to the floor before the first had started to drip, and in the stunned pause, the god stopped and glared. His body was gleaming faintly with some inner light, but he looked much like he always had, a black haired man, brown skinned and sleekly muscled. He raised his right hand, the arm without the serpent tattoo. Solar fire coated it, sparking and hissing, then roared out in a wave of pitiless radiation and heat. The screaming was hideous, the pleas for mercy immediate, and the effect of both less than nothing. A moment more, a final flash and he was gone. Anila coughed once more and struggled to her feet, faintly feeling His hand on her shoulder to lend her a sliver more of his strength for a time. The wretched burned remains of her attackers smouldered amongst angry orange and red walls, the two ringleaders whimpers adding a soundtrack of sorts to the scene. One would live for a month or more, cancer and massive third degree burns slowly devouring them. The other's heart would go to her lord, but the choice of which was for her to make.