The prison of the Silent King was coming undone. The vast, gray plain was cracking, and the starless, black sky was fracturing like broken glass.
The very idea of the place was falling apart. The Matriarchs stood in the middle of the collapsing cathedral of shadow, watching in stunned silence as a miracle and a catastrophe happened all at once.
The million tiny, golden threads of the shattered Axiom of Fate were not just floating randomly. They were being drawn to the seed in Scarlett's pouch, a river of pure, unwritten destiny flowing into the heart of their sleeping hero.
The seed, which had been pulsing with a slow, steady, golden-green light, now began to glow with a brilliant, blinding white. It was absorbing all of the raw, untamed potential of a broken universe.
"What's happening?!" Ilsa yelled over the roaring sound of a collapsing reality.
