I frowned faintly and asked,
“What has?”
However, he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled me fully into his chest, one arm wrapping firmly around my waist while the other cradled the back of my head, turning my face inward against him. His palm shifted to cover my ear as his body angled around mine, blocking even the faintest edge of pale marble beyond his shoulder.
“Oblivion…?” I started, confusion replacing fear.
“Close your eyes for me, pretty girl,”he whispered near my temple, and this time there was no gentle coaxing, only quiet command.
Seconds later was when the first statue shattered.
Needless to say, the sound was not what I expected. Because it wasn’t just the brittle crack of something small breaking. It was thunder contained within stone, a violent split that tore through the hall and reverberated through the floor beneath my heels. Even with his hand pressed firmly over my ear, the force of it travelled through his body into mine, the impact vibrating against my cheek where it was pressed to his chest. I flinched hard despite myself, my fingers clutching instinctively at the fabric at his shoulder as the tremor rolled through us.
Another followed.
Then another and another.
Each detonation was distinct, controlled, separated by the smallest pause, as though he were erasing them one by one rather than lashing out blindly. I could feel the displacement of air with every fracture, the rush of dust lifting, the heavy collapse of carved limbs surrendering to gravity. The marble that had stood in silent formation only seconds ago was being dismantled with terrifying precision, and the steady rhythm of his breathing did not alter once.
“Oblivion…”I breathed against him, half in protest, half in shock, my voice barely audible over the cascading destruction.
“Easy now, I have you,” he answered calmly, tightening his hold when my shoulders jerked at the next explosive crack. His hand did not waver from my ear, his palm firm and protective, shielding me from the worst of the sound. While the other arm anchored me so completely that I could not have stepped away even if I tried.
The floor trembled again as something larger fell, the deep, resonant crash of a full figure collapsing into ruin, no doubt. I felt the impact through the soles of my shoes, through his chest, through the space between us. To where my heart pounded unevenly against the steady rhythm of his own. There was no strain in him. No visible effort. As if the destruction hadn’t come with gritted teeth or a snarl of temper.
It was as simple as a choice, and I was left in utter shock against him. But then another statue split apart, stealing my thoughts. The air thickened faintly with the dry scent of fractured marble, a fine grit settling into the quiet spaces between crashes. My mind tried to grasp the scale of what he was doing, to count them, to understand whether he meant the destruction of only those closest to us. But the sound continued further down the hall than I had realized the line extended.
He was not stopping at the nearest threat.
He was removing the possibility entirely.
I shook my head faintly against him, not in fear, this time, but in disbelief.
“You didn’t have to…”
The next impact swallowed the rest of my words, and his hand at the back of my head tightened fractionally, pressing me more securely into his chest as though shielding me from my own protest.
The final crash came heavier than the others. A rolling collapse that seemed to travel the length of the corridor before the echo dissolved into a settling hush. Stone scraped across stone in a slow, grinding shift as fragments came to rest. The scent of dust clung to the air, tickling my nostrils.
Then there was nothing.
No echo. No movement. No silent line of pale watchers.
Only the faint sound of my own breathing, still uneven against the steady rise and fall of his chest. His hand slid slowly from my ear to the back of my neck, fingers resting there in a warm, grounding hold. The other remained firm around my waist for a moment longer, as though confirming the world had finished shaking before allowing me space.
“It is done,” he said quietly, and there was no arrogant triumph in it, no theatrical edge, only a calm and unwavering certainty. For a heartbeat, I didn’t move. I didn’t trust that the silence would hold. But when nothing followed, when no second wave of sound cracked through the hall, I drew in a cautious breath and lifted my face slightly from his chest.
He eased his hand from my neck but didn’t step away. He made no move to give me space, instead his arm continued to hold me steady as I slowly opened my eyes.
The hall beyond us was unrecognizable.
Where elegant figures had once stood in composed stillness, there was now only ruin. Marble torsos split cleanly through the spine. Limbs shattered into jagged arcs across the polished floor. Faces broken through the eyes, through the mouth, through the serene expressions that had unsettled me minutes before. The destruction extended far beyond the nearest few but down the length of the entire corridor. Even in the alcoves where smaller statues once lay were now reduced to fractured stone and pale dust.
All of them.
My breath left me slowly, disbelief eclipsing the remnants of panic as I took in so much more destruction than I could have imagined.
“What… what did you do?”
