The rumble had been going for many minutes now.
Atticus sat still with the hundred Ensim, his mother, and his cousin, all of them staring up at the quaking ceiling. The God of Man had begun his battle above, and now they waited for their opening.
The barrier surrounding the sanctum was supposed to be fueled by an endless supply of primordial will. Their chance, when it came, would be brief.
Atticus had seen his mother say a silent prayer when the battle began, but he kept quiet. He imagined the woman, despite all her bravado, cared deeply for her husband and son.
He had seen the way she looked at them. If it had been within her authority, if she had truly been given the choice, his cousin would have been Solvath's successor, not him.
