The cathedral’s floor groaned, a sound of ancient stone surrendering to the pressure of the abyss. Malphas felt the sudden, terrifying absence of weight. Without the foundation to anchor his existence, he was no longer a sentinel. He was a fragment of stray energy, swirling in the draft of the open breach like dandelion seeds in a gale.
Below him, the hive was no longer restrained. The mirror-eyed creatures poured through the jagged maw in the altar floor, their movements fluid and predatory. They did not rush. They navigated the cathedral with a sickening, choreographed grace, sensing that the guardians who had kept them at bay for eons had finally been cast out of their sanctuary.
Lyra’s essence flared one final time, a desperate, golden spark that refused to surrender. She did not att
