"Heh heh... Heheheh..." Calvin's voice was sharp and venomous. "We'll remember you... Star? Just wait to be devoured by the withering..."
No sound came from Muriyas, perhaps because he no longer had the strength to speak, but the panicked streak of light that had fled desperately into the rift said it all.
The Holy City fell into a deathly silence once more.
However, there was no atmosphere of elation or relief among the Church Court's faction.
The excitement on Pope Ete I's face had long since frozen, replaced by a deep, unconcealable dread. The hand he used to grip his Scepter was so tight, his knuckles had turned white.
On the Great Shepherd Leader's face, which was like a sculpture of ice, the blizzard in his left eye and the polar night sky in his right both began to spin at an astonishing rate, showing that he was nowhere near as calm as he appeared.
Cardinals such as Adrian and Ambrosius exchanged glances, their eyes filled with horror.
