The void screamed as the bridge shattered beneath Caelum's feet. He didn't fall. No—he hovered, defying gravity, his form distorting like a nightmare refusing to die.
I stepped back instinctively, gripping my blade, but the ground behind me was gone too. The entire realm—the Gods' Cradle—was tearing itself apart. Cracks split across the sky, leaking tendrils of raw starlight and ancient energy.
"You think this ends with me?" Caelum growled, his voice warped and ancient. "You've only awakened the rot sleeping beneath the world."
I didn't answer.
My blade glowed, reacting to something unseen. The Moon's fire pulsed with wild rhythm, like it recognized something was wrong—terribly, cosmically wrong.
Then the stars fell.
Not light—not sparks—shards.
Fragments of constellations rained like weapons, piercing the divine air with shrieking velocity. Caelum shielded himself with a wave of darkness, but I was already leaping, blade first, slashing through space to reach him.
