The white light of the Trial's collapse still lingered in their eyes. Vivian and Sebastian's hands were joined, shaking but unbroken. Around them, the fractured chambers pulsed with wild energy—untamed, unpredictable, alive. Every surface bent and shimmered. Shadows twisted like liquid, then froze, then vanished. Sparks of fractured symbols drifted through the air like falling stars, and the very walls seemed to breathe.
Alaric appeared above, the council hall behind him trembling with aftershocks. His face was unreadable, like stone. His eyes flicked to the glowing fracture again and again, as if searching for an anchor.
"I…" he began, but the words died in his throat. For the first time, the Trial's chaos was beyond his control. He had inherited duty, yes—but authority? That had gone.
Deep in the system, Dorian's voice echoed, cold and sharp. "System integrity failing. All protocols rejected. Structural collapse imminent."
