The laugh became a tremor.
Not in the ground, not in the sky—in the Tower itself.
Every floor, every stair, every locked door shivered like strings on an unseen instrument. Echoes warped, memories twisted, rules that had once been iron bent like reeds in a storm.
And then—light.
Not the clean blaze of Thrones, but something older, rawer. It poured through cracks in the void like molten dusk, touching every shadow, every scar, every heartbeat. The Tower was no longer just listening. It was answering—through something it had buried.
Liliana flinched, nearly dropping Leon as the glow bathed them. Her voice cracked. "That's not theirs… that's the Tower itself."
Milim's small frame shook, her arms clutching Leon tighter. "No… it's not the Tower. It's what the Tower tried to lock away."
Roselia spat blood, her ember flame flickering in time with the alien radiance. "And now it wants out. Gods damn us all."
