The vein-burst echoed through Veridia like a discordant blast, water erupting from a cracked wall in the Crucible with a roaring gush that drowned the volunteers' murmurs. Blue fire licked along the fracture, the flame's backlash manifesting as elemental fury—floods bubbling with voracious hunger, winds whipping debris into chaotic swirls that battered the reinforced door. Lysander's mallet slipped in his grip, slick with the sudden spray, his scars searing as the boundaries they'd composed fractured further, leaks turning to rifts in the psychic web. The whisper roared triumphant: *Shattered. Feed freely. Consume the score.*
Brynn's pipes clattered to the floor as she lunged for Elara, pulling the child from the rising tide, her voice a sharp cello stab over the chaos. "The restraint broke! It's recoiling—hold the line!"
The Collective scrambled amid the surge: Jax bracing a crumbling strut with his rod, CLANGING it against the iron to ground the wild energies; Remy's file rasping frantically across a leaking crystal—SKRITCH—sealing what he could, blue sparks flying like errant notes. Seraphine clutched her slate to her chest, chalk dust washing away in the flood, her eyes wide with silent alarm. Kael collapsed against the Bone, his core flame flaring uncontrollably, visions overwhelming the group—shared hallucinations of the monolith rising, tendrils devouring sparks like a conductor claiming his orchestra.
Volunteers panicked, the smith's hammer slipping from his grasp as the hunger tugged at his essence—a subtle sip that left him gasping, spark dimming. "It... pulls! Like forge flames sucking air!"
The weaver's shuttle spun wildly out of control, threads unraveling into watery strands that lashed like whips. Urchins' flutes whistled panicked gusts, amplifying the winds into mini-gales that scattered instrument scraps across the room. The whisper evolved into a cacophony: *Feed or fracture. The pact demands feast.*
Lysander waded through the knee-high water, mallet raised like a baton in a storm-tossed concert. The visions assaulted him: Veridia crumbling under unchecked power, tenements swallowed by crystal maws, rivers boiling with blue fire; or fed fully, the city ascending to utopian symphony, but the collective hollowed, souls as fuel for endless creation. The boundaries had held briefly, but Silas's prophecy rang true—the flame resented confinement, recoiling with amplified voracity.
"Recompose!" Lysander shouted, striking the Bone's central strut—BOOM—a desperate low to anchor the chaos. His scars bled anew, the shared essence leaking like blood from a wound, the pull a ravenous vacuum at his core. Brynn reclaimed her pipes, blowing a fierce WHIRL to disperse the winds, her notes weaving barriers against the flood's advance. Jax thumped his rod—THUMP-THUMP—grounding the surges, sweat mixing with spray on his brow. Remy's file bound cracks—SKRITCH-TWANG—his one-legged stance defiant in the swirl.
Seraphine banged her scrap against a dry crate—CLANK—punctuation in the pandemonium, her mute fury a rally cry. Elara, perched on Brynn's shoulders, pounded her drum—THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—infusing purity to calm the wild flames, her tears mingling with the water.
Kael, voice strained over the roar, directed from the keys—TING-TING—his precision attempting to modulate the backlash. "Channel it outward! Use the volunteers—diffuse the recoil!"
The newcomers, sparked but untested, joined the fray: the smith hammering a vein-coil—CLANG—to vent excess fire, blue gout shooting harmlessly upward; the weaver's shuttle TWIRLing nets to trap flooding waves; urchins' flutes WHISTLEing gusts to push back the tide. The piece reformed amid the deluge: Recontainment's Fury, lows to crush the recoil, highs to seal the rifts, mids fusing desperate unity.
The monolith thundered below, the whisper twisting into rage: *Denied? We devour.* The Crucible shook violently, crystals shattering in cascades—PING-CRACK—blue fire erupting in arcs that singed clothing and skin. A volunteer's spark flickered out briefly, essence tugged—a warning drain that left him pallid, gasping. "It... took a bite!"
Lysander's mallet hand cramped, visions blurring: the pact fracturing completely, Depths retreating in wrath, Veridia sinking into elemental abyss; or feeding it now, sacrificing a few sparks to sate the storm. The hook sank visceral: contain and lose power's promise, or feed and risk the soul-feast?
The piece peaked—BOOM-WHIRL-THUMP-SKRITCH-CLANK-THUMP-CLANG-TWIRL-WHISTLE—a furious roar that wrestled the backlash, floods receding to puddles, winds dying to breezes, flames dimming to embers. The boundaries reformed, thicker but brittle, the whisper muting to a sullen murmur: *Contained... barely. But the hunger builds. Feed soon.*
The group slumped, sparks safe but drained, the Crucible scarred with fresh cracks sealed in luminous haste. The smith retrieved his hammer, glow subdued. "It held... but the visions—grand forges, now whispers. The flame resents the cage."
Brynn helped Elara down, pipes steaming. "Resents? It's breaking free. We can't recompose forever."
Kael unfolded the scorched schematics, fingers trembling. "Alistair's endnote: 'When boundaries fracture, flee to the source. Confront the monolith, or be consumed.' We descend—face the Depths' heart."
Silas's laugh was a weak rasp. "Descend? Into the maw? Madness. But perhaps your only coda."
The door groaned under another press of arrivals, the whisper calling more. Seraphine scrawled: DESCEND OR DEVOUR?
Lysander gripped his mallet, the flame's itch a constant burn. Visions of the monolith loomed: alliance renegotiated, or pact shattered in abyssal fury. The hook twisted final: descend and risk souls, or stay and feed the endless hunger? The rumbles built anew, containment fracturing, Veridia's fate hanging on the descent's melody.