EMMA
Gravity died the moment the east wing let go.
A roar like the throat of a god being torn out swallowed the Great Hall, and for five seconds, the world was nothing but a sickening drop. I slammed against the mezzanine railing as the central keep groaned, tilting precariously toward the fresh abyss. Stone dust, thick as flour and tasting of ancient mineral and modern nitrate, choked the air into a gray, suffocating soup.
Below me, the scene was a descent into a mechanical hell. The "Unity Feast" had been replaced by a slaughterhouse of architecture. Long timber tables had slid into a pile of splintered wood and black linen at the far wall. The ultrasonic shriek of the Inquisitors’ pikes was still drilling into my skull, but it was being drowned out by the rhythmic, thunderous thump-t
