Before Violet could even force a single word past her lips to answer for herself—to defend against the toxic web of suspicion I had so elegantly woven around her—the high-vaulted, magnificent dining hall of the manor was violently shattered by a symphony of pure apocalypse.
The freezing stone walls of the North and the noble marble floors underneath our feet seemed to shake as a barrage of terror-stricken Omega shrieks tore through the air.
"Thief! There is a thief!" servants and guards screamed in unison as they came sprinting from the outer corridors into the hall, their frantic voices overlapping and echoing off the ancient stone.
"We are under invasion!" an Omega cried out, collapsing in sheer agony right at the threshold of the double doors.
"We are under invasion!"
