The star Reed hurled detonated in mid-air, a miniature sun blooming above the shattered fortress. Its blast washed over stone and flesh alike, searing banners to ash and turning the ramparts into rivers of molten iron. For one blinded heartbeat, the world became pure white—soundless, depthless, unreal—and then the light tore itself apart in convulsions of violet shadow. Reality snapped back like an overstretched bowstring.
Shia coughed dust from her lungs and forced her eyes open. All she could see were after-images: a ring of ember-bright ruins and, at the center, Reed descending through the fallout. What had been a crown of fractured runes now orbited him in ragged constellations, shards humming with enough power to weld the horizon shut. Every footfall cracked the ground, releasing coils of black-purple smoke that hissed with voices half-remembered.
