The silence following Seraphyne's fall was almost religious.
The white snow that remained of her corrupted body evaporated slowly, rising in thin clouds. The core of the hall, for the first time in hours, remained still. Neither pulsing, nor shining, nor screaming. Just… still. An impossible stillness, too heavy to be natural.
Kael breathed slowly.
Each breath was a cut from within.
Each movement, a stab.
Blood trickled down his side in a steady stream, tinted by the pale glow of the shadows that tried to hold his flesh together. His eyes remained fixed on the void where Seraphyne had crumbled—not out of vigilance, but because there was something there.
Something he felt even before it happened.
Behind him, far behind, Sylphie, Amelia, and Irelia approached cautiously, calling his name in frail voices.
"Kael!"
"Your wound—!"
"We need to get him out of here!"
But Kael raised a hand without even turning around.
"Stay… where you are."
