What had once been a pale gray battlefield now burned crimson, thick with the stench of sulfur and death. Every breath seared the lungs. Every heartbeat sounded like thunder beneath the endless chorus of screams and clashing steel.
At the center of the chaos, the Saintess stood unmoving—her staff buried into the shattered ground, golden wings of light unfurled around her. The divine barrier she had summoned earlier still glowed faintly, a shimmering dome of radiance holding back the sea of darkness that pressed from all sides.
But now, even that light was cracking.
Tiny fractures, at first—hairline lines of shadow spreading across the golden surface. Then, one by one, the fractures deepened. The sound was soft yet unmistakable—the delicate ringing of glass about to break.
Kaelion noticed first.
