Everhour Chamber
The silence in the Everhour Chamber was heavy, the air thick with the pressure of unspoken words. Only the central mana focus pulsed faintly, casting shifting veins of light across the floor.
It was Morganya who broke the stillness, her voice carrying a cool, measured authority that cut clean through the air. "Subaru has issued a threat…. a threat none among us seem eager to address. If that is to be left unanswered, then we must turn to the matter at hand. The Dwarven Kingdom."
From his seat, Subaru let out a low, cynical chuckle. The sound reverberated like a blade scraping stone, a reminder that his words carried more than jest.
Thorn leaned forward, the firelight catching the hard planes of his face as his ring glowed with a low light. His tone was edged, severe. "Why should our focus shift to the Dwarves? Chaos pounds at our very gates. Are we to close our eyes to that?"
Morganya's gaze never wavered. Her eyes glowed faintly in the mana's reflection as she replied with quiet certainty. "Because what festers in the Dwarven Kingdom cannot be dismissed. Their destruction will not remain theirs alone. Mana flows through their deep tunnels as blood through a vein. If that lifeline collapses… all of us bleed."
For a moment, silence stretched again, then Vareth spoke. He leaned back, steepling his fingers, his voice smooth with a veneer of reason, yet lacking true conviction. "I would like to agree, but I see no necessity to entangle ourselves in their affairs."
Vaelorian's head lifted sharply, his eyes narrowing. "And why not, Vareth?" His question cut like steel.
A thin, calculating smile curved Vareth's lips. "Because intervention comes with a price. Should we extend our hand, what assurance do we have that their ruin will not spread to us? Why invite contagion?"
Raizen's brow furrowed, his voice grave. "There is weight in his words. The risk of entanglement…"
Thorn's hand struck the table, silencing him. His voice rang with conviction, like the clash of steel on a battlefield. "Risk? Look to our own borders. Do you not see the rune stones already burning against the soil? How much longer before that fire spreads inward? If the Dwarves collapse, so do we. Or perhaps, Vareth, it is not caution that guides your tongue, but something else hidden."
Vareth smiled deeper, unfazed by Thorn's accusation.
Subaru, who had been watching in silence, finally spoke, his tone sharper than before, his words slipping into the room like daggers. "Yes. They will need help, and it must come free of hidden chains. Yet let us not blind ourselves. Someone… perhaps more than one among us… already makes their quiet moves to bind the Dwarven Kingdom for their own gain."
The chamber fell into a taut silence, every leader's gaze flickering across the circle.
Vareth did not defend himself. He only chuckled, the sound dry, conspiratorial, a knowing twitch at the corner of his mouth that made the silence heavier.
~~~~~~~~~
Ten Minutes Earlier
The streets had gone quiet, the kind of quiet that comes after something breaks. Dust drifted over broken stone, and the vortex that had torn through the air was gone now, leaving only wreckage and two figures still standing in the middle of it.
Sora and Veyron faced each other, both of them battered, sweat and blood running down their skin in equal measure. Every breath cost something. Every movement ached. And still neither of them backed down. There was the same look on both their faces, somewhere between madness and something close to joy.
Veyron threw one more punch, his arm slow with exhaustion but his fist still landing hard against Sora's cheek. The hit snapped her head sideways and sent her stumbling back, her shoes scraping through broken stone. For a moment she swayed, off balance. Then she straightened again, blood sliding from her split lip, her eyes cold and steady.
Veyron laughed, a sharp, barking sound that carried real delight in it. He lifted his sword and pointed it at her. "You, maid. You've made my day. I mean that. No matter what I throw at you, you find a way to counter it. You just won't die, will you?"
Sora didn't answer. She kept her eyes on him, and behind that silence her mind was working fast, cold and clear. How do I end this. How do I kill him before my strength runs out completely. She could feel her mana thinning, slipping away like water finding a crack, and she knew she didn't have much time left to fight at this pace.
Veyron read her silence as hesitation, and his grin only grew. "Nothing to say? Come now. Are you trying to figure out how to kill me?" He shook his head slowly, almost fond. "Waste of thought, maid. You're nothing but my reflection. Killing me," he said, drawing the words out, "would be the same as killing yourself."
He didn't get to finish.
Sora vanished, her body breaking apart into a flicker of frost. A Silent Frost Step. The ground froze in a thin line behind her as she reappeared right in front of him, her hand sheathed in jagged ice, fingers driving straight toward his eyes.
Veyron twisted to get clear, but his foot wouldn't move. Ice had crept up his leg from where she'd touched down. For the first time, his grin slipped. But it wasn't fear that crossed his face. It was something closer to delight. He bent low, fast, ducking under her strike as it cut through the air just above his head.
The instant her hand missed, the ground tore open. Spears of crystal burst upward in a Frozen Bloom, meant to run him through where he stood. But Veyron had already thrown himself clear, driving his sword into the earth and using it to vault out of range. He landed hard several yards off, breathing rough, leaning on his blade to keep himself upright.
"Did you really think that would work?" The mockery was back in his voice, though it came out thinner now, strained. A line of sweat cut through the blood on his temple. "I told you already. You're my reflection."
Sora finally spoke. Her voice came out low, worn down from the fight. "Then why didn't you strike when you had the chance?"
The question landed harder than anything she'd thrown at him so far.
Veyron went still for a heartbeat. Then his head tipped back and he laughed, loud and hollow. "And why would I? Don't you see it yet? Whatever I do, you'll find the counter to it. You'd have turned that opening against me before I even finished the swing."
Sora stayed where she was, pushing the pain in her wounds to the back of her mind. She watched him instead, turning over what little room she had left to work with.
Veyron's grin faded. His eyes sharpened, and when he spoke again his voice had dropped into something flatter, almost bored. "This is dragging on. It's starting to feel tedious."
He raised his sword. Dark power flickered along the edge of it, trembling faintly like it was alive. "Why don't we-"
He never finished.
A voice cut into his mind, cold and absolute, one that no one else in the street could hear. "Veyron."
He went rigid. It was Vielwalker.
"I believe the time is near. Leave there immediately."
Veyron let out a roar, his frustration breaking loose all at once.
Sora didn't waste the opening. Her form blurred, another Silent Frost Step carrying her low and fast, her strike aimed straight for his knees.
His instincts saved him before his mind caught up. His sword dropped in a sharp block.
"Veyron."
The voice came again, and this time it carried weight behind it, weight Sora could feel even though the words weren't meant for her.
A crushing pressure dropped over him, thick and suffocating, though nothing about it was physical. It was the weight of Vielwalker's will alone, pressing down until it felt like it might grind him to nothing. His blade wavered in his grip. His knees started to give.
Even Sora felt it. The air around them turned heavy and wrong, and her chest tightened like she'd swallowed smoke. What is this.
Veyron forced the words out through clenched teeth, his voice cracking under the strain. "I'll leave. I'll leave!"
The pressure let go as suddenly as it had come. Air rushed back into their lungs, sharp and almost painful after the weight of it. Both of them staggered where they stood, chests heaving, the ground seeming to tilt for a second before settling.
Sora bent forward, one hand pressed to her chest, her whole body shaking. Her mind was still catching up. That wasn't his power. That wasn't Veyron at all.
Veyron straightened slowly. His grin was gone now, his face hard with something closer to anger than amusement. He sheathed his sword with a sharp, deliberate click, and when he spoke his voice had lost all its earlier playfulness. "Well, maid. May we meet again."
Then he was gone, nothing left of him but a flicker in the air.
Sora stayed on her feet a moment longer before her legs gave out and she sank down onto the broken stone, her breath still ragged. The quiet around her felt heavier now that he was gone, the wreckage of the street pressing in: shattered stone, broken homes, blood darkening where it had pooled. The ice along her hand melted away on its own. Her eyes lost their edge, and her thoughts drifted somewhere far from the fight she'd just survived.
"I hope the children are safe," she whispered, to no one.
. . . . .
Raizen kept his eyes on Subaru, his back straight, his voice cutting clean through the quiet of the chamber. "What made you say that? Why would anyone here have a hidden reason to help the Dwarven Kingdom?"
Subaru let out a dry chuckle, the sound scraping more than it amused. "Don't take it personally, Raizen. I'm only speaking the truth. None of us trust each other fully here, and we both know it. Power is what most people chase, in the end. So tell me this. Once you've taken that power, if you never push past your own limits, what happens to you then? Do you just wait around for someone stronger to walk over you?"
Raizen's reply came quickly, the challenge sitting plain in his voice. "Insightful words. But you're not the one who should be lecturing anyone here about power. For the strongest man in the world, you speak as if you're afraid."
Subaru didn't look away. When he answered, there was an honesty in his voice that unsettled the room more than any threat could have. "Afraid? Yes. I am."
Vareth leaned back in his seat, something thin and pleased flickering behind his eyes. "Very interesting," he murmured, like he meant to keep this for later.
The quiet that followed broke when Morganya brought her hand down on the table, hard. For someone as slight as she was, the sound carried more weight than expected. "We're drifting too far from the matter at hand. Our attention shouldn't scatter. The issue is still the Dwarven Kingdom."
The Saintess spoke next, her voice calm and carrying, the kind that seemed to settle over the room rather than cut through it. "We need to stay focused on helping the Dwarven Kingdom. What plan will we offer them? Every moment we spend circling each other, the world outside keeps moving without us. And let us not forget, time itself runs slower in here than it does out there."
Vaelorian pressed his fingers to his temples, his sigh heavy with something close to exhaustion. "Subaru. Raizen. The two of you are always at each other's throats, and somehow always at the worst possible moment. This isn't what we need right now."
Thorn let out a rough laugh that rolled through the chamber. He tipped his head back like the whole exchange amused him. "Let them go at it. Does them both some good."
Morganya's scoff cut clean through his laughter. "And what should we expect from you? Always so eager to play the fool."
Thorn's eyes snapped to her, something hot flaring behind them. His voice dropped low. "Say that again. I dare you, witch."
Before it could go further, Elorandir stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying enough weight to settle over the room. "My apologies, leaders, for the interruption."
The chamber stilled. Even the aides along the walls turned to look at him.
His eyes found Thorn. "This couldn't wait. Your ring has been glowing for some time now."
Thorn looked down, and what he saw made his chest tighten; a faint, steady pulse of white light against his hand. His mind didn't go to the summit, or to the argument he'd just been in. It went somewhere else entirely.
Morganna.
He was on his feet before he'd finished the thought, the urgency on his face plain for everyone to see.
Subaru leaned forward, his earlier sharpness gone, replaced by something that looked like real concern. "Thorn. What is it?"
Thorn's eyes cut to Elorandir. "Open a path for me. I need to leave. Now."
Morganya's eyes hardened. "You cannot leave until this summit reaches its conclusion."
Thorn's jaw tightened. "You'd speak to me again, witch?"
Raizen's voice followed, steady and cold as ever. "She's right, Thorn. No one leaves before this summit ends."
Vareth let out a quiet laugh, one with no warmth in it at all. "Walking out now would bring you far more trouble than you seem to realize."
Vaelorian raised a hand, his tone reaching for something diplomatic. "Perhaps Thorn has matters that need his attention. We should at least hear him out before deciding anything."
Thorn's hand drifted toward the hilt of his blade. His eyes swept the table, daring any of them to push further. "I care little for what any of you have to say. Do you think you can stop me?"
Morganya's mouth curved, slow and sharp. "That, I would very much like to see."
Raizen stepped between them, his voice low, meant to settle things rather than add to them. "Thorn. Calm yourself."
Before anyone could push the moment further, Subaru clapped his hands together once. The sound cracked sharp through the chamber and echoed unpleasantly off the walls. His voice, when it came, was quiet but carried its own kind of steel. "Let him go. I'll go with him."
The Saintess spoke again, her voice soft, though there was something firmer laid beneath it. "I would advise against that."
Subaru rose to his feet, the motion easy, unhurried. His smile carried something dangerous in it. "Oh? And what exactly would you do to stop me?"
The Saintess didn't answer. Her face calm and unmoved, and her silence said more than anything she could have spoken aloud.
Subaru let that quiet sit for a moment before he went on, his smile widening just slightly. "Thorn has somewhere he needs to be. I'm going with him."
Vareth leaned forward, his voice sharp with irritation. "And why must you tag along? Do you think this is some kind of game, Subaru?"
A deep laugh rolled out of Subaru's chest, low and resonant enough that it seemed to fill the whole chamber. "A game? Then I'll make you an offer. Any of you, come test your strength against me. Or against Thorn, if you'd rather. Tell me, do you really think you'd win?"
The challenge sat there, heavy, and no one answered it.
Morganya tried a different angle, her voice cool, probing. "Subaru. Surely you know what's troubling Thorn."
His head turned toward her sharply. "And if I do?" There was a gleam in his eyes now, daring her to keep pushing.
Before she could answer, Thorn's voice cut through, raw, the anxiety in it now louder than the anger had been. "Elorandir. Open the path. Let me out of here."
Elorandir shook his head, slow and steady, his calm holding firm against Thorn's demand. "I'm sorry, Thorn. No one may leave until there's agreement among the leaders. That is the law of this chamber."
Thorn's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade. His voice dropped low. "I'm warning you, Elorandir."
Subaru stepped closer and rested a hand on Thorn's shoulder, his tone gentler now, oddly steadying. "Easy, Thorn. Elorandir is only holding to what the law demands of him." He leaned in, his voice dropping to something meant only for Thorn to hear. "I know this has to do with Morganna. But stay calm. There's nothing to gain from making an enemy of everyone in this room, least of all him."
Thorn's grip eased. He let out a long breath and stepped back, his hand falling away from the hilt.
Subaru turned to face the chamber again, his composure back in place, his smile sharp as ever. "Elorandir. Please. Let Thorn and me leave."
Elorandir let out a short laugh, something knowing in his eyes. "Why ask me, Subaru, when you could force your own way out easily enough?"
Subaru tilted his head, and for the first time his smile softened into something almost gentle. "It's called courtesy. To ask."
Elorandir's laughter faded into a small nod. "Very well. If any leader objects, raise your hand now."
The chamber held still for a long moment. No hand rose, not until the Saintess lifted hers, calm and unhurried as ever.
Thorn and Subaru both turned toward her. Drakos's mouth twitched with something close to amusement, while Valdis only frowned, clearly lost on what was happening. Auren stayed quiet, his attention fixed carefully on Raizen.
Elorandir's gaze settled on the Saintess. "And your reason?"
Her voice came calm, sure of itself, every word weighed before it left her. "I have no objection to Thorn leaving. But Subaru should remain."
Subaru's smile returned, sharper now. "He asked for your reason, Saintess."
She held his gaze without flinching. "You already know it."
Subaru let out a soft, dismissive laugh and shook his head. "Then your reason doesn't hold. Well, Elorandir, it seems she stands alone on this."
Elorandir's smile carried a note of finality. "I see. Thank you both for attending this year's summit. We hope to see you at the next."
Subaru returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I hope so."
"I hope so," Thorn echoed, though his voice came out heavier, like he wasn't sure he could promise it.
Elorandir clapped his hands together once. The mana in the room surged at once, thick and unrelenting, and the air twisted violently around Thorn, Subaru, Auren, and Raphael, dragging at their bodies like a current none of them could fight.
Then the chamber was gone.
They came back into existence in the misty woods just beyond Weinstone Academy. The pull of the teleportation hit hard. Raphael stumbled forward, gasping, catching himself against a tree before he went down. Auren steadied faster, his breath short but his eyes already on Thorn.
"Uncle Thorn." His voice was tight, urgent. "What's wrong?"
Before Thorn could answer, Subaru spoke first, his voice level, final. "Nothing you need to worry about."
Thorn raised his hand, and the air in front of them rippled, a portal tearing itself open, its edges crackling like even the mana resisted the urgency behind it.
"Subaru." Thorn's voice was low. "Thank you. But I need to go alone."
Something in Subaru's expression hardened. He stepped closer, his voice carrying the weight of years behind it. "Not this again, Thorn. Have you forgotten? When one of us is in danger, the rest of us come. That's never changed."
Thorn let out a rough laugh, more breath than sound. For just a moment, the weight of everything he carried, his family, his duty, showed plainly on his face.
Auren cut in, his voice firm. "Then Raphael and I are coming too."
Thorn turned, ready to agree, but Subaru's answer landed first, sharp and final. "No. Both of you are going home. Dreadholm cannot be left undefended."
"Whatever this is," Raphael started, his voice steady, "I think-"
Subaru didn't let him finish. His eyes sharpened, and for a moment something old and dangerous moved behind them, enough to make the air around him feel heavier. "I don't have time for this. You're both going back. This will not take long. When it's done, I will return, and I will bring the children, and Sora, home with me."
Auren went still, unsettled by how much weight sat behind those words, sensing there was more to this than either of them had been told. Raphael let out a slow breath, his silence saying more than any argument could have. He'd learned long ago there was no winning against Subaru once his mind was set.
"...Okay, Granduncle." The words came slow from Auren, like they cost him something. He turned toward the portal, his shoulders stiff, then glanced back at Raphael. "Let's go."
Raphael lingered a moment longer, looking first at Thorn, then at Subaru. He didn't say anything else. His loyalty sat plain on his face, along with something closer to worry. Finally he exhaled and followed Auren toward the gate.
Just as they reached the portal, Subaru's voice stopped them.
They turned back.
His expression had softened, something almost like warmth breaking through the hardness that had been there a moment ago. "Don't forget this. Family protects each other. Always."
The words landed heavy, somewhere between a blessing and an order.
Auren and Raphael looked at each other, then nodded, whatever doubts they still carried folded quietly away. Together they stepped through the portal, and it sealed shut behind them, leaving nothing but a ripple fading into the mist.
The clearing went quiet again.
Subaru turned to Thorn. "What are you waiting for?"
Thorn let out a soft laugh, though his eyes were already fixed on the distant shape of Weinstone Academy. There was no uncertainty left in him now, only the look of a man who understood there was no path back from this. "Nothing."
Subaru gave one last nod, his face grave, and gripped Thorn's shoulder.
In a flash of light and silence, they were gone. The mana scattered the mist around them like something fleeing, and the clearing stood empty once more.
They were already moving, racing toward whatever waited for them.
~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile
The chant had grown into a frantic, unified scream, voices breaking and twisting as if possessed.
"doG htaeD liaH liaH!"
Kibo's breath came ragged, his katana a blur of silver arcs. Each swing carved a body, but the press of robed men was relentless, their blackened eyes gleaming with fanatic hunger.
Ignis's voice lashed at him from within, sharp and unrelenting. "Stop playing defense, you blithering idiot! You're getting swarmed! Move faster! Do you not see? They're about to start the carving!"
Kibo's jaw tightened. He brought his blade down in a savage arc, cleaving one fanatic clean through. In that fleeting moment, his gaze flicked toward the altar. His stomach knotted.
Isilwen.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide with terror, yet lined with a terrible resignation. She and the other elves were being forced into position, their limbs bound against cold stone. Ritual daggers hovered inches above their chests. No… they're seconds away…
On the other side of the chamber, Takashi moved like a storm contained within a single body. His focus was razor-sharp, his eyes glinting as his Empath's Glance laid bare the intent of his enemies before their muscles even twitched. Every strike he delivered was brutal efficiency, his Godspeed Assault cutting down fanatics faster than they could scream. The air cracked with each movement, his presence forming a living barrier around the altar.
Astrid's breath was ragged, her face pale but her eyes aflame. She had seen the fear carved into the faces of the elves, and something inside her broke. Her Moonbind Cord snapped outward in burning arcs of celestial light, wrapping around robed figures, searing their flesh, binding their movements. Each flick of her hand was desperation and fury woven into one.
Morganna's eyes narrowed. She extended her arms, her voice low with conviction. Mana surged around her, luminous and green, bursting forth into the Verdant Aegis of Eternus. Endless vines, glowing like emerald fire, tore from the ground and raced toward the altar, coiling to drag the captives away from the daggers.
For a heartbeat, hope sparked.
But then the floor split. A rush of corrupted mana erupted like poison, and three of the robed men stepped forth. They were taller, their forms more monstrous than human, cloaked in power far beyond the others. Their shields of black mana flared to life, consuming the holy vines. The once-brilliant cords shriveled, curling into smoke before they touched the altar.
Morganna staggered back, eyes widening in horror. No….
Chaos roared around them. Blood spattered stone. Screams echoed.
And yet, at the altar, the priest's voice only grew steadier. He had waited for this moment, and nothing—not blades, not bindings, not even death—would keep him from finishing the rite. He knelt low, his trembling hands lifted high, his voice climbing above the carnage as his incantation shifted, becoming darker, heavier.
"doG htaeD liaH… uoy nommuns I. uoy dnib ton dlrow eht fo sniahc eht yam dna, htgnerts ruoy yfilpma sevle eht fo doolb eht yaM. gnisselb ni ngier rewop ruoy teL. gnivil eht fo mlaer eht otni uoy nommuns I. htaeD fo doG eht nopu llac I."
The air crackled.
The priest's hand hovered in the air, poised to deliver the final, bloody command. Time itself seemed to falter, stretching the moment into eternity.
It was a fraction of a second, yet it felt like the world was holding its breath.
"Brat, stop it!" Ignis roared inside Kibo's skull, the voice sharp as a blade, desperate with urgency.
"Takashi!" Astrid's cry tore through the storm of chanting, her voice raw, pleading, the sound of a heart that refused to accept loss.
Kibo's chest tightened, Takashi's jaw clenched. Their eyes went towards the elves for a heartbeat across the chaos, and in that silent lay grim understanding.
There is no time. Only one chance.
They inhaled together, steadying the storm inside. Time seemed to still for everyone but them. Their speed ignited, and their bodies blurred into streaks of impossible motion.
They slipped through the chanting mob like phantoms, cutting through the gaps between heartbeats. Their focus narrowed, their targets singular—the daggers raised above the elves' throats.
The priest's command split the air like thunder. "End it!"
Kibo's katana sang, his body a torrent of desperation. Takashi moved with merciless precision, every strike a death sentence, every motion honed to annihilate. One after another, the robed men fell before their blades, their cries drowned by the storm of steel.
But then—disaster.
Four fanatics stood too far away. Their daggers were already descending, silver arcs glinting in the dim light. Among them, Isilwen's fragile neck lay exposed beneath the falling blade.
Kibo's heart lurched. Too slow. I can't reach them…
Takashi's gaze flicked to the priest. His decision was brutal, merciless. He abandoned the doomed, driving himself toward the priest, katana flashing, intent on severing the ritual at its very root. End the source, He shouldn't be summoned.
But Kibo refused to yield. His body moved before thought could stop him. With a roar tearing from his throat, he hurled his katana. The weapon spun, a silver wheel of death, cutting through the air. It found its mark.
The fanatic holding Isilwen jerked, the blade piercing his skull, blood spraying like ink into the firelit air. His dagger clattered uselessly aside.
Isilwen fell, her bonds severed by fate itself, and Kibo lunged forward, catching her against his chest. Her terrified breath shuddered against him.
But fate spared only one.
The other three blades came down. In one horrific instant, three elven throats were cut. Heads rolled, blood fountained, the altar becoming a crimson basin.
Then it came.
A monstrous force erupted from the blood, invisible yet suffocating. It slammed into Kibo and Isilwen, hurling them like ragdolls across the chamber. Takashi was ripped from his charge, flung brutally away from the priest. As the freed elves were flung from it, the chamber itself shuddered as if struck by a divine hammer.
The three zealots who had wielded the blades screamed once before being annihilated, their bodies shredded to ash by the backlash of their own sacrifice. The elves that were killed fell limp, lifeless, their blood spreading like rivers across the cold stone floor.
Morganna staggered, clutching her chest, her thought frantic and desperate. Did it fail? Did we stop it?
The silence that followed was heavy.
The priest remained untouched, shielded in some unseen cocoon of protection. His face twisted, his eyes bulged with madness. Then came his scream, tearing from his throat like an animal's dying wail. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Takashi groaned, rising to his feet, his body aching, his eyes scanning the shifting currents of mana. The air was wrong—warped, alive, crawling with something older than time.
Kibo held Isilwen tight, his breath ragged, sweat mingling with blood on his face. For a heartbeat, relief flickered in his chest. She lived. But Ignis's voice killed it instantly, grim as the tolling of a bell. "Brat… it isn't over."
The priest staggered, then straightened, his voice hoarse but triumphant, spittle flecking his lips.
"You dare! You miserable failures! Do you not see? Their blood… their blood will only hasten his arrival! The sacrifice is made! You cannot stop what is coming! You will all be drowned in the power of the Void!"
The surviving followers faltered, their chants stuttering, their pale faces betraying fear. Had their god answered, or had the ritual collapsed into ruin?
Astrid's breath hitched. She could feel it—the weight, the shift, an ancient malice pressing down, cold and absolute.
And then they all heard it.
A laugh.
It bubbled up from the blood pooled at the altar, wet and grotesque, like air escaping a corpse. It vibrated through bone, a sound that curdled the soul.
The priest froze mid-rant, his wild eyes snapping to the altar. Then, slowly, a smile of delirious joy spread across his face.
The laugh grew. From a chuckle to a rumble. From a rumble to madness. It rose until it was a thunderous, booming cacophony that filled every corner of the chamber.
Hehehehehahahhahahahhahahhah
Then it stopped.
Silence.
The air turned brittle, colder than a grave.
And from the center of the blood pool, a voice emerged.
Deep. Resonant. Eternal.
"Finally… Mother."