The song of the revenants faded into silence, leaving only the whisper of wind through the ruins and the labored sound of breathing—Selena's, barely there, and Dante's, ragged with grief and exhaustion. The chamber felt vast and empty now, hollowed out by the absence of the power that had once saturated every stone. Dawn light continued to pour through the shattered ceiling, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.
Selena's eyes were closed, her body still in Dante's arms. He thought for a terrible moment that she had finally slipped away, that her real heart had given its last beat. But then he felt the faint flutter of her pulse against his wrist, saw the slight rise and fall of her chest. She was still here, still holding on, though he couldn't imagine what reserves she was drawing from.
