The sky above the valley shattered like tempered glass. Fragments of azure reality fell toward the earth, dissolving into golden sparks before they could hit the grass. Lyra watched as the horizon curled inward, erasing the town, the trees, and the very path they had traveled. There was no escape through movement, only through the rupture itself.
They are erasing the stage because they fear the performance, Malphas said. He stood firm, his feet planted in the soil that was rapidly turning to fine, gray dust. He gripped his iron blade, the metal beginning to glow with a faint, violet hue, responding to the aura radiating from Lyra.
We need to pierce the center, Lyra shouted over the rising gale of reality tearing itself apart. The tower is the only thing anchored to their origin point. If
