The courtyard didn't just crack; it screamed.
Stone ground against stone as the mountain’s spine snapped. A fissure the size of a city street tore through the center of the monastery, swallowing the fountain and the hearse in a single, dusty gulp.
"The tank!" I shouted, grabbing Cyprian’s collar as the ground beneath us tilted forty degrees.
We slid toward the abyss. The Aegis-7, with its tons of armor and grip, dug its treads into the crumbling flagstones, anchoring itself like a tick on a dying dog.
"Get to the tank!" Oryn roared, hauling Silas up by his jumpsuit.
We scrambled up the sloping armor of the machine. The Abbot stood by the chapel doors, his monks lined up behind him, chanting a low, mournful dirge.
"Come with us!" I screamed at him, the wind whipping my hair across my
