The air in the Deep Sanctum had reached a breaking point. The obsidian walls were no longer just humming; they were screaming, vibrating with a frequency that threatened to shatter the very foundations of the mountain. Gwen lay at the center of the storm, her body a vessel for a power that was too vast, too early, and too violent. The "Electric Prince" pulsed within her, a white-hot sun that refused to be contained, and with every surge, Gwen's life force ebbed a little further into the grey.
Lucien was on his knees beside her, his hands glowing with a frantic, flickering violet light. He was a man drowning in shadows, his skin turned a translucent, ghostly pale as he continued to siphon the Void-leakage into his own veins.
"He's not coming back," Matriarch Selene whispered, her voice thick with the grief of a woman watching her Queen die. "The peaks have claimed him. The dragon has won."
