The ground beneath the ruined palace split wider, a jagged maw of stone and earth vomiting columns of black mist that twisted into shrieking, eyeless faces. The Gate—sealed and forgotten for over a thousand years—was no longer dormant. Its awakening pulsed through the air, a heartbeat of malice that shook the very foundations of the capital. Marble pillars crumbled into dust, and the sky above churned with clouds that bled unnatural shades of violet and crimson.
Valerian lowered his sword, Soulpiercer, its blade still humming from the clash with Emperor Aurelius. The battlefield itself was shifting—flagstones cracked, the air grew heavy, and the wind carried a stench like charred bone. His breaths came shallow, his muscles screaming from the fight that had brought the Emperor to his knees. But this... this was something else.
