Reheil's husband lay bound to the ground, eyes snapping open to the sight of a cold, familiar body. He tried to move—nothing. Only his eyes obeyed.
And there she stood. Appolyth.She wore his wife's skin, her hair, her voice—but not her eyes. Those eyes were the abyss itself. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? Tears slid down his frozen cheeks.
Appolyth knelt beside him, her shadow crawling over the walls."For this to be done," she whispered, "you must remain alive. Do not think this mercy, mortal. It is how you prove yourself worthy of my child."
She pressed her finger to his forehead.Runes began to burn across his body—head, chest, arms—each stroke pulsing with black flame. Her hand tore open, dark ichor dripping down upon him, searing into his flesh. He screamed, the sound swallowed by the walls.
Then, without pause, she drove her blackened fingers through his chest. The scream died halfway.Appolyth pulled free his heart—still beating faintly—and raised it to her lips. She devoured it whole.
Her form convulsed. Cracks spread across her flesh; black light leaked from within. She screamed, her voice shattering glass and bone alike.From her abdomen, something pushed outward—small, writhing, alive.
"My child," she whispered, trembling. "Be calm… Mommy is here."
Silence. Then—a Presence filled the room.Every shadow froze. The air turned heavy.
Appolyth's eyes widened in terror.The voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once:"Appolyth. You have committed the greatest sin. You have rebelled against the divine. You no longer hold the right to exist."