The High Plateau shuddered with a deep, subterranean groan that echoed up through the mountain like the death rattle of a dying titan. Outside the shattered high windows of the Great Hall, the endless ocean of crimson clouds surrounding the fortress transformed—turning a bruised, twilight purple, traversed by thick jagged bolts of spatial lightning born from pure compressed mana.
Inside the hall, the atmospheric pressure tripled within seconds.
The floating marble fragments, which had been suspended in anti-gravity since Cassian first broke the floor, suddenly felt the crushing weight of the vampire patriarch's surging domain. Stone blocks larger than carriage houses began to sink, grinding against one another with ear-splitting screeches that showered the air with white dust and sparkling mica fragments. The air itself grew dense, heavy with the metallic tang of fresh blood and ozone, making every breath feel like swallowing warm, iron-laced water.
