All hell broke loose as we fled the throne room. Chunks of rock and debris broke from the walls and ceiling, and the fissures in the floor widened. Entire rooms gave out behind us or fell through the ceiling, burying our level. Shouts and screams rang in the billowing clouds of dust. Cries for help, pain, and loss melded together, smothered only by the dreadful roar of cave-ins.
Elaine led the way, the emperor held in her arms. The sixth-level guards had since vanished into the spire, following her orders to save who they could. R'lissea and I followed after, clinging to Fable's back for dear life. I squinted against the dust, hoping for a flicker of violet light in the gathering dust, but Luke and the other apostles had vanished.
"I'm sure they're alright. They escaped when the floor cracked," R'lissea said.
