Back inside, the light vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the hall in a disorienting, purple-tinged darkness.
Silence returned, even more profound than before. In fact, it was more violent than the explosion.
A thick, swirling mist of pulverized obsidian… the remains of a thousand-year-old relic… coated everything in a fine, dark soot. Through the haze, the only thing visible was Sol. He stood exactly where he had been, his hand still outstretched into the empty air where the Sun-Stone had once sat. He looked at his palm, his skin wasn't burned, it was glowing from within, a soft, fading white light pulsing beneath his veins like a dying star.
He felt... fine. A little hungry, perhaps, but fine.
But the hall was in absolute shambles. Chairs were overturned, splinters were scattered, and the air smelled of ozone and burnt wood.
