The Spire shook.
The cables pulsing into Kael's arm turned white hot. His skin began to crack, shedding ash like snow.
"Kael!" Elric tried to pull him free.
"Don't touch me!" Kael shouted. His voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.
"I'm... anchoring."
He looked at Elric. His eyes were turning black. Not sclera-black. Void-black.
"Tell them," Kael whispered.
"Tell them what?" Elric wept.
"Tell them the line is held."
Kael closed his eyes.
The throne erupted.
A beam of anti-light shot from the Spire, piercing the purple cloud layer. It struck the Eye in the center of its pupil.
The Eye shrieked—a sound felt in the teeth of every living thing on the planet.
Then, it blinked.
And it was gone.
The purple clouds dissolved. The Void-roots withered and turned to dust. The shadow-beasts fell apart, returning to the ether.
The beam didn't stop. It spread out, covering the sky in a lattice of faint, black stars. A net. A shield.
In the Control Room, the chair was empty.
Only a pile of ash remained.
And sitting on top of the ash, untouched, was the Ring.
Elric picked it up. It was cold.
Outside, the sun broke through the clouds. It shone on the Capital. It shone on the Ashlands.
The war was over.