The silence didn't last.
The last echo of Aranea's disappearance was still ringing in their ears when the ground shuddered.
A low, grinding sound rolled through the chamber—stone against stone, ancient gears forced awake after centuries of sleep.
Sireina's crystal string hummed in her hands, the thin, translucent thread stretching into empty air where Aranea had been taken. It glowed faintly, trembling like it was afraid.
"Oh no," she whispered. "He triggered the core."
"The what?" Beau snapped, voice sharp, frayed. "Use words that don't sound like 'everyone dies'—"
The floor lurched to the left.
Everyone stumbled.
Zann nearly fell to his knees, catching himself on scorched stone. His fingers curled, nails scraping the ground. "He took her. He took her—"
"Zann." Leonel grabbed his shoulder, grip tight. His own eyes still shook, but his voice was firm. "Not now. We move."
The chamber convulsed again.
