The ash settled around them like snow, pale and fine, coating everything in a layer of gray that spoke of endings and erasure. Selena lay in Dante's arms, her breathing so shallow it was barely perceptible, her real heart struggling to maintain its rhythm without the cursed artifact that had sustained it for so long. The chamber was silent save for the distant sound of settling stone and the whisper of wind through the broken walls.
Then, from somewhere deep below, came a sound.
At first, Selena thought it was merely the earth continuing to shift, the aftershocks of the marrow's destruction reverberating through the foundations. But as the sound grew closer, she recognized it for what it was—footsteps. Hundreds of them. Thousands. A multitude ascending from depths she hadn't known existed.
Dante tensed, his arms tightening protectively around her even though he barely had the strength to move himself. "What is that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from breathing smoke and ash.
