A weight settled on his shoulders, a heavy one. The weight of a leader, Atticus realized.
His people would follow him, even through the scorch of hell. But it had just dawned on him that should anything happen to them, it would be his fault. That thought alone made his eyes harden and his demeanor shift.
"The portal will close in 3 seconds. See you on the other side, or not."
The saint went through the portal, leaving the tense atmosphere. With a breath, Atticus followed, phasing into the portal.
A flash of whiteness filled his vision, then his eyes cleared. He found himself standing in the middle of an expansive hall.
Atticus could feel many piercing gazes on him, but he couldn't take his eyes off the incalculable number of cannons surrounding them.
They were fitted to the walls, nozzles pointed toward the portal in the middle. Towards them.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Atticus finally turned away from the weapons, observing the people in the room.
