The void itself screamed.
It was not sound—no atmosphere existed in the space above Earth—but every living thing below heard it in their bones. A pressure, a resonance, like the breaking of a divine harp string that had been woven into the fabric of reality itself.
The cracks spread.
At first, faint white fissures like spiderwebs of lightning streaked across the invisible dome of the cosmic barrier. They stretched wider, glowing hotter, until the heavens looked as though they were shattering glass. Each fracture bled light, each pulse made Earth tremble.
On the ground, entire cities dropped to their knees. Animals wailed, temples split, volcanoes stirred awake. Mortals screamed in confusion, the air thick with a dread older than their species.
Above, the Fallen Angels pressed harder. Six of them leaned their essence forward like titans straining against the sky, wings tearing rivers of corruption through the void.
