The gate spat her out. Again.
The tenth floor was a mountain pass. Jagged peaks clawed at a bruised purple sky. Wind screamed through the stone teeth. It was cold. The air tasted of ozone and old snow.
Noah's signature was a fading thunderclap. A ghost of violence clinging to the rocks. He had been here. He had won. He was gone.
Lilith did not react. Her amber eyes were chips of frozen honey. Unreadable. Her white hair streamed behind her like a battle flag in the gale.
The floor had already begun to reset. To test the new arrival.
They came from the cliffs.
Stone Hawks. Their bodies were living granite. Their wings shed pebbles as they dove. Beaks sharp enough to carve rock. A squadron of five.
They fell upon her. Silent but for the rush of wind on stone.
Lilith lifted a hand. A single, dismissive gesture.
Five tiny crimson motes blinked into existence. Each found a hawk's core.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Five small clouds of grey dust. Scattered by the wind. Gone.
