The High Priest's triumphant cry was the sound of a death knell for the world. The obsidian dagger plunged downwards, a streak of black lightning aimed directly at Seraphina's heart. In the same instant, the crack in reality above the altar tore open with a sound like ripping canvas, a violent, guttural tearing of the world's skin. It was no longer a simple rift; it was a wound, a gaping, circular maw of pure, starless black that began to vomit a palpable wave of cold and dread into the cavern.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Seraphina snapped the last of her shadowy bonds. She didn't have time to dodge. Instead, she threw her body to the side, a violent, rolling motion. The dagger missed her heart by a fraction of an inch, sinking deep into the fleshy altar beside her with a sickening squelch. The High Priest roared in frustration, trying to wrench the blade free.
It was the only opening Edward needed.
