Reth took a slow breath, closing his eyes for one heartbeat. If this is real… then why doesn't anything make sense?
When he opened his eyes again, the edges of the world had hairline cracks—thin, white cracks, disappearing when he attempted to look at them.
The mage stumbled forward. Seris moved beside him. The cracks grew deeper.
Reth raised his sword. Black fire burst, encircling his arm, pouring into the crevices in the air itself.
The marble beneath his feet trembled. The torchlight overhead splintered, shattered into shards like glass dropped slowly.
One stroke. Only that.
The sword did not strike the mage, nor Seris—it sliced through the air.
The world shattered.
Light seeped in from nowhere and everywhere, the ballroom exploding in a tempest of shards—walls folding inward, shadows creased like paper, voices ringing out into nothing. Reth fell forward onto solid stone, black fire dying from his weapon.
