And then she felt what lay beneath.
The valve wasn't blocking flow. It was limiting something. Regulating something that was meant to stay regulated.
The pipeline tore open.
Power exploded through the connection. From everywhere. From all five death courts simultaneously, channeling through ward-work far older than she'd realized.
The collection spheres that had been dimming suddenly blazed with new essence. The extraction chambers roared back to life. The shells that had been faltering surged back to full strength.
And more appeared.
Translucent forms materialized throughout the chamber. Dozens, then hundreds. Souls being pulled from every corner of the death realms, drawn through the gateway she'd accidentally blown wide open.
Horror crashed down as understanding hit.
Warriors who should have gone to the Violent. Artists meant for the Consumed. The unfinished bound for the Lingering. All of them redirected here. Harvested. Refined. Weaponized.
Her ancestors had built bridge points between domains. Had locked them down, limited them to slow trickles.
And her bloodline had just given permission to open completely.
"No," she whispered, yanking her hand back from the floor. "No?—"
Dante's shadows wrapped around her waist, pulling her backward as shells flooded the space where she'd been. His barrier reformed—smaller, tighter, barely large enough for both of them.
"What happened?" His voice was rough. Strained. "The power?—"
"I opened it." The words came out broken. "I thought I was closing his source but I?—"
She couldn't finish. Fresh souls kept appearing. The army doubling. Tripling. All drawing power from the gateway she'd opened.
Caelum had stopped trying to reach her.
His desperation melted away, replaced by something infinitely worse.
Triumph.
"Yes." The word was soft. Tender. "Oh, thank you, my dear. Thank you so very much."
"I could never have opened that gateway myself," he continued, voice taking on that fervent edge. "The ward-architects built in safeguards against external manipulation. But you..." His smile widened. "You commanded it from within. Your bloodline permitted it.”
More shells formed. Hundreds. Thousands.
"Every soul that dies now flows through my realm first," Caelum said, spreading his hands like benediction. "Before any of the otherDeath Lords can claim them. Your beautiful ward-work channels them here for processing."
Every death. Every soul. For eternity.
"Though why would I send them onward?" He tilted his head. "When I can perfect them here. Make them useful. Give them purpose."
She couldn't move. Couldn't think past the souls multiplying around them.
"I've been building toward this for centuries," Caelum said softly. "Waiting for the right catalyst. You accomplished it in thirty seconds."
"We're leaving." Dante's voice cut through the spiral. "Now."
His shadows wrapped around them both. Darkness so thick it felt like drowning. The refinery disappeared, reality twisting.
They materialized in the Forsaken Court.
