The weight of her realm and what she kept in that mountain still pressed against Sienna's ribs.
The insurmountable presence of it was the last thing she felt before the leaving her Soul Realm — the colossal monolithic spike of fused gods and titans rising at the centre of her Soul Realm, the slow peristaltic pulse of its slope, the screaming heart-crater at its summit weeping rivers of corrupted divinity down flanks made of broken divinity.
Sienna had stood on that slope for what felt like an hour ago in her own black-blood-streaked finery, gazing up at the continent-sized corpse embedded in the peak... th every heart of the mountain, and she had reached — carefully, sovereignly, with the unhurried possessiveness of a thief who legally owned the vault — into the lowest of its shattered wings and taken one single feather for herself.
Just one.
