The ceiling of the subterranean chamber groaned, a sound of tectonic shifting that vibrated through Malphas’s teeth. Dust and pulverized glass rained down, stinging his eyes, but he kept his grip tight on Lyra. The air had turned viscous, smelling of scorched ether and ozone.
"The foundation is buckling," Lyra gasped, coughing as the violet smoke curled around them like predatory vines. "If the city falls, the collapse will trap us miles beneath the crust!"
"I cannot let him rewrite the ley-lines," Malphas growled, squinting through the haze.
Valerius was no longer standing at the altar. He had merged with the light of the map, his golden silhouette flickering across the cavern walls like a projection of a dying god. He was everywhere and nowhere, a whisper in the shifting stone.
"Yo
