The Deep Sanctum had become a pressure cooker of cosmic proportions, a subterranean vault struggling to contain the birth of a god. The white light radiating from Gwen's chest didn't just glow; it pulsed with a rhythmic, violent intensity that matched her fading heartbeat.
The obsidian walls, legendary for being the ultimate dampeners of magic, were beginning to hairline fracture. Cracks webbed across the ancient stone, weeping glowing dust as they buckled under the sheer magnitude of the "Electric Prince's" premature surge.
