Pyris was unraveling.
Without even realizing it, he was drawing power—not from his body, not from his mind, but from something deeper. Something buried. It was as if a gate had been thrown open, and from the depths of his soul, an ocean of locked power surged forth, roaring into existence with no restraint.
Reality bent.
The world around him twisted, the very fabric of existence struggling to contain the sheer force radiating from him. The air warped, turning dense and unstable, pulsing with energy so overwhelming that space itself seemed to fracture in places.
The moon should have begun its rampage by now.
Alexa saw it in her vision. By now, the celestial force above should have been raining annihilation upon them, its wrath shaking the world apart in a cataclysmic event. But it didn't.
It wailed.
It grieved.
It cried with Pyris.
