The Ash Spire splits down the middle.
A crack opens behind us, swallowing stone and shadow. The old runes flare, some bursting, some holding. Dust falls like snow. But no one stops.
Branvel shields Wren as a pulse of dark light shoots across the chamber. Kett flicks her hands—threadlines surge, pinning two Threadless against the wall. They scream without sound.
The rival doesn't flinch.
I grip his arm, drag him forward, and slam him against a pillar. He twists free, spins low, and sends a shock of bone-force into my side. I crash through debris, land hard.
He doesn't follow.
Instead, he turns—toward the seal-holders.
"Stop him!" I shout, pushing myself to my feet.
Too late.
He stretches out his hand, and the runes around Voul flicker.
Something's tearing at the seals.
Nera screams—a low, broken hum—and drops to her knees. Fenn braces her. Jeral steps in front of them, blade up, shouting a spell I don't recognize. Light flashes.
Still not enough.
The rival calls out a name—one not meant for human tongues.
And the Spire *listens.*
It shakes again, deeper this time. Beneath us, something answers the call.
Vellidra's last seal.
No. Not just hers.
*The first one.*
The rival slams both fists into the floor. The crack spreads, wide as a chasm. Purple light bleeds up from below.
"You built your power on silence," he says, eyes glowing. "But silence forgets. I remember."
I run for him. So do Lira and Sov.
But he's already stepped into the center of the chasm. The bone ring pulses once—twice—and then everything drops.
We fall.
Down into the heart of the Ash Spire.
Into the place even Vellidra never dared awaken.
The city's spine.
Where all power begins and ends.
The silence here isn't calm.
It's *waiting.*