The tidal wave of black nectar didn't just crash; it roared with the sound of a billion voices screaming in agony.
It was a solid wall of obsidian fluid, blotting out the glowing forest and rushing toward the valley floor with the unstoppable force of a collapsing mountain.
Vesper's hunters were frozen, their faces pale under the dim light of their bone rifles.
They knew the math.
They were too far from the vault.
"We're not going to make it!" one of the hunters screamed, his voice cracking.
"The seal won't open in time!"
Elara didn't look at them.
She looked at the wave, feeling the suffocating, telepathic weight of the Leviathan's physical body pressing against her mind.
She could feel the nectar's hunger. It wasn't just a wave; it was a hungry, mindless limb reaching for its missing soul.
"Elara, stop!" Vesper grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back.
