His magic detonated in a radius larger than the Blightsphere. A shockwave burst outward from his skin, blowing apart what was left of the beacon, turning the chiseled granite and marble into dust. Worshippers nearby scrambled away in terror, unable to tell whether it was the Resh’Agar—or something else—rising from the wreckage.
Still aflame, his eyes took in the sight of the body of his wounded Sokâr.
Crumpled so far down in the dark pit below that only his rune-lit eyes could find her.
She was still, bleeding silver into the long-dead and barren stone beneath her. Her left arm was bent at an unnatural angle—shoulder dislocated or shattered, he could not tell. Her head had struck the stone edge of the ceremonial torch base. Silver blood spilled across her temple, trailing into the dirt and rock like molten starlight.
Pain seared through the Bond, so vast he couldn’t find the source.
But pain meant life.
And life meant urgency.
He began his climb downwards.
His body radiated so much raw power that each foothold, each handhold, gouged the earth. The ground shook. The air writhed as though trying to escape his radius. Mana—already rotting from the Cycle’s heat—now boiled and roiled in fury. The white and grey marble of the Opaline Court melted. The effigy to the Destroyer at the center shed scalding tears from its lifeless eyes.
When he made it to the bottom, the mighty Resh’Agar dropped to his knees beside his Consort. He ignored the mangled corpses of the Solutus surrounding them. His lips moved, but the sound of his voice could not surpass the cataclysm now unfolding all around them both.
He touched her cheek but couldn’t feel her breath.
She looked like a bird cut down mid-flight. Her wings torn. Her feathers snapped and shattered. Her Ashborne gown had been shredded in the fall. The intricate crystal threading looked like spiderwebs clinging to bruised skin, catching in blood-soaked starlight hair.
Time stopped.
All went silent as the grave.
The Sovereign’s Mandate was clear.
Bring her home.
But home was not the Jade Lattices.
Not for either of them.
Hewas her home.
Her safety.
Her sanctuary.
And so, he lifted her broken body in his arms. The rift answered his call once again, but this time he did not tear it in a rage. He opened it as sanctuary, carrying her where no worship save his own could reach.
48
Harbinger
In the wake of the Resh’Agar’s departure, pieces of the balcony floor vaporized in the resulting mana storm. The air howled in agony at its new scar then collapsed into itself, pulling in debris and parts of the walls and floors.
Below, Reskala reclaimed order piece by piece, subduing the Solutus rebels at the command of Thrassus. Once the Resh’Agar and his Sokâr vanished, the Solutus retreated. The Reskala captured some, but they quickly runed their tongues, their faces growing pale a split second before their bodies erupted in explosions of burned flesh and cracked bone.
To keep from being caught in the blast, Thrassus commanded his men to throw the prisoners down into the pit. They sealed it with whatever wards still functioned in the heat, sweat pouring down their faces as they struggled to cast.
Shu’Khan watched the warriors toss the marked men into the darkness, his face unmoved, then turned from the scene. From the screams. From the rupture of the world.
He walked, unhurried, to the edge of the high chamber. There, beneath the fractured mosaic of forgotten stars, stood a single ornate chair.
He sat. Folded his hands. Closed his eyes.
