The chamber did not erupt after Icarus died. The corruption that had saturated stone and air began to withdraw in slow recession, as though drawn back into a source that no longer existed. The thin grey film that had coated the fractured floor lightened by degrees. Cracks once threaded with diseased mana returned to dull mineral tones. The oppressive density in the atmosphere loosened until the air felt breathable again, clean in a way it had not been since the battle began.
Where plague had clung, there was now only ruin.
The ground around Valttair was a vast crater carved by overlapping forces that had exceeded structural tolerance. No walls stood intact. The inner architecture of the castle had been reduced to jagged edges and collapsed corridors. Above, the ceiling had ceased to exist entirely, leaving the chamber exposed to the open night. Moonlight spilled downward through drifting dust, illuminating devastation without prejudice.
Nothing lived within the immediate radius.
