Zevran's body began to c***k like porcelain. Light and shadow poured from the fissures. He looked at them one last time, his expression serene despite the obvious agony.
"Worth it," he mouthed. Then he shattered.
The explosion knocked everyone backward. When the light cleared, Zevran was gone. Simply gone. Not even ash remained.
But the merge had stopped. The pressure between worlds had dissipated. The Architect's presence faded.
"INSUFFICIENT VESSEL," the Architect's voice echoed as it withdrew. "THE MERGE CANNOT COMPLETE WITH SUCH WEAK FOUNDATION. POSTPONED INDEFINITELY."
The Weaver collapsed, her web destroyed, her plan in ruins. "No. No. Three hundred years. Three hundred years of work. Gone. Because of one boy's stupid sacrifice."
"Not stupid," Draven said, his voice breaking. "
