(... Continued)
The colors of the world bled together…the violent blue of Autumn's fire, the oily black of Karl's shadow, and the bruised violet of the Rift…all swirling into something too bright to even look at.
Time didn't move anymore. It crawled…each second dragging through the air like thick syrup.
A sound like the universe exhaling tore through the battlefield.
And the Rift burst open.
Not shattered. It bloomed.
A wave of light and shadow, molten and crystalline all at once, poured outward…and from that impossible brilliance, figures began to emerge.
One. Then another. Then seven.
Mango stepped forward first. But her eyes held sorrow, sadness…Autumn couldn't find the familiar compassion that always inhabited there. Behind her, the other Guardians followed, silent as the dawn after war.
Their feet didn't touch the ground…they seemed to hover.
Ash and embers that erupted from Autumn and Karl's crash, froze mid air.
