As the giant falls, we earn a moment of respite. Just a moment.
Ashlynn quickly rushes down from the mezzanine and approaches me, stepping over cracked marble and fragments of bone.
"Len, what are these?" she asks as she points at my tentacles. There is a slight repulsion on her face, though she does not step back.
The dark limbs pulse once behind me, thick and steady.
I turn to her and pat her head. "Don't worry, they're not dangerous."
"Yeah, but—"
My finger lowers to her lips. "Shhh," I cut her off gently. "Just trust me, okay?"
Her eyes linger on the tentacles for another second before returning to mine. She nods with a faint smile.
She's both cute and strong. I like it.
We stretch our bodies once more to loosen the stiffness from the fight, then move through the doorway where Xandar fled. Ashlynn's porcelain puppet glides three meters ahead of us, blades angled outward, scanning. I walk beside her with my tentacles raised slightly, ready to anchor or strike if needed.
Not even two steps inside, figures begin to detach themselves from the darkness along the walls.
"Lessies," Ashlynn comments.
She instinctively commands her puppet forward. The porcelain blades sweep in clean arcs, cutting through the malformed bodies before they can fully stabilize. The lessies collapse soundlessly, dissolving into slack flesh and black residue that stains the floor. The path ahead clears without slowing our pace.
We reach the final door at the end of the corridor.
I push.
It opens.
We step inside.
At the center of the chamber, between six evenly spaced pillars, a large sphere hovers roughly half a meter above the ground, nearly two meters in diameter. It is formed from rocks, bricks, and rubble torn from broken floors and shattered pillars, all compressed tightly together by unseen force. Dark veins pulse across its surface, black kuor threading through the debris like arteries. The smell of rot hangs thick in the air, heavier than in the hall outside.
Beneath the sphere, carved into the floor, lies an alchemical circle.
The circle is filled with writings and interlocking diagrams. As I narrow my eyes, the structure becomes clearer. The outer rings compress energy inward. The inner formation redirects pressure along calculated fracture lines.
Shardfang patterns.
Not identical, but built on the same philosophy of rupture and directional force.
"Welcome."
Xandar's voice echoes from within the sphere itself, slightly distorted by the stone and kuor enclosing him. "Welcome to your grave."
The door behind us slams shut with sudden force, the impact reverberating through the pillars.
Ashlynn and I turn at once and reach for the handle. I pull.
It does not budge.
"Len, it's locked," Ashlynn says.
Bam.
A heavy impact thunders from the other side of the door, something massive dropping into place to block it completely.
The sphere at the center pulses once, the kuor veins brightening as if responding to our presence.
"Let's have a long talk, shall we?" Xandar says.
"Do you know what this place is?" he continues.
I remain silent, letting the sound of his voice fill the chamber. My eyes drift from the ceiling to the floor, tracing the pillars, the hovering sphere, the lines of the alchemical circle beneath it. I measure distance. I measure angles. I measure timing.
"This is where you murdered Xarxar… my boy," he sobs. "My boooooy…"
His voice cracks and stretches unnaturally as it echoes from within the sphere. The dark veins across its surface pulse in uneven rhythm, as if responding to his grief.
He starts to cry.
Ashlynn turns to me, concern tightening her expression. "Len?"
I shrug once.
She grips my arm. She doesn't speak again, but the question sits there between us. I can feel it in the pressure of her fingers. Explanation. Confirmation. Something.
"Why? Why? Why? Why did you kill my boys?" he cries out. "Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?"
His sobbing grows louder, almost theatrical, reverberating against the pillars and feeding into the circle beneath him. The kuor veins brighten faintly with every rise in his voice.
Ashlynn clears her throat, steadying herself. "You trafficked people. Isn't that why you deserve this?"
There is a brief pause.
"Wha—WHAT? That's it!?" Xandar protests, disbelief twisting into rage. "You went out of your way to kill an entire family simply because of that?" His voice spikes, distorted through stone and kuor. "YOU'RE A MONSTER!"
"No, I— You—" Ashlynn fires back instinctively.
I cover her mouth before she can continue.
Her protest muffles against my palm. This isn't about moral debate. It never was.
"WHY ARE YOU QUIET? HUH, THADEO?" he roars.
I don't answer. Again.
The silence stretches, deliberate and controlled.
"No answer? That's fine." His voice drops abruptly, grief draining into something colder. "You killed my sons. You killed my fiancée. You destroyed my peace." The veins across the sphere begin to pulse in synchronized rhythm now, steady and deliberate. "Now… I take your life."
The alchemical circle beneath the sphere flares to life, its lines igniting in layered rings. Symbols activate one after another, energy funneling inward toward the hovering mass above.
The air pressure shifts.
Ashlynn tightens her hold on my arm, fear finally surfacing plainly on her face.
I pull out my last syringe and drive it into my back without hesitation, injecting the remaining umbral vial into my body. The liquid burns as it spreads through my veins, merging with the umbral vial already threading inside me.
Four more limbs tear free from my back, pushing through fabric in controlled emergence. Now there are eight tentacles unfurling behind me, thicker and denser than before, each one flexing with restrained tension.
The circle's glow intensifies. The sphere above begins to rotate slowly, rubble grinding against rubble while the kuor veins shine brighter.
I pull Ashlynn closer to me.
The tentacles fold inward, layer upon layer, wrapping around our bodies. They weave together into a dense, overlapping shell, sealing every gap, forming a thick sphere of living mass around us.
The energy at the center of the chamber compresses.
For a fraction of a second, everything holds.
Then the circle releases.
BOOM.
The explosion erupts from the center of the chamber, and a massive shockwave slams into us. The impact travels through the tentacles wrapped around our bodies, the force vibrating along every layered strand. Heat surges outward, followed by crushing pressure that compresses the air inside our living shell.
We hold each other tight through it. Ashlynn screams, but the sound is swallowed by the roar of the blast and the dense mass encasing us.
The tentacles constrict further, tightening instinctively as they absorb the heat and disperse the shockwave across their layered structure. I feel the strain in each limb as they burn and harden, taking the brunt of the detonation meant to tear us apart.
Gradually, the force weakens.
The explosion fades into ringing silence broken only by falling debris. Stone fragments and shattered pillar pieces rain down, striking the outer layers before sliding off or settling over us. Dust fills the air, thick and choking.
The tentacles begin to dissipate slowly, their surface charred and thinning as they finish dispersing the residual heat. The layered shell loosens and falls away in strands that dissolve into black residue.
A deep crack tears through the chamber, not from the sphere, but from the structure itself. Pillars split. Stone groans.
Debris piles around us. We are half-buried under dust and broken stone.
Through narrow gaps between the fallen rubble, I can still see the sphere. It remains intact. Still hovering in the exact same place, untouched at its core.
Beyond it, a full section of the outer wall has ruptured and collapsed outward, torn open as if peeled away.
My hand moves instinctively to Ashlynn's mouth. I cannot see her face through the dust and fragments, but I feel her breath against my palm. I press gently, signaling silence.
We stay still.
Completely still.
My other hand slides slowly toward my revolver, fingers closing around the grip without a sound. I draw it halfway, keeping it low and hidden within the debris.
The chamber is quiet now.
No movement from the sphere. No footsteps. No voice.
Only wind whistling faintly through the broken ceiling as the night thins. My heartbeat feels loud in my ears, but my breathing remains steady. Calm.
A moment passes.
Then another.
Nothing changes.
The sphere does not move.
So neither do we.
Time stretches. Dust settles. The darkness begins to dilute as faint morning light filters through the fractured roof above. The first rays of the rising sun cut across the chamber, illuminating the floating mass in pale gold.
A thin crack forms along its surface.
Then another.
The rubble composing the sphere begins to fracture from within. Black kuor veins flicker erratically as the structure loses cohesion. Chunks break away and fall, hitting the ground in heavy thuds.
The sphere collapses, its suspension failing as the remaining debris crashes down.
Xandar stands revealed at the center, kneeling within the remnants of the circle. His clothes are torn, his face streaked with soot and tears, but he is alive.
He lifts his head toward the fading fragments of stone.
"Xarxar," he cries hoarsely, "may you rest in peace, my boy."
He pushes himself up, stepping forward from the shattered remains of his construct.
Just as his foot settles onto clear ground, I move.
I emerge from the debris in front of him, rising from dust and rubble with my revolver already leveled at his head.
There is no warning.
No speech.
No hesitation.
Bang.
Xandar's body collapses backward.