Down in the fortified clinic cellar, the single-ring duplicate felt the violent tremor of the royal severance vibrating through his soul.
The crimson attention thread in the sky snapped against the municipal wards, sending a devastating wave of backlash down the remaining conduit.
Black lightning crackled along the doorframe, scorching the whitewashed plaster and illuminating the corridor in violent violet strobes.
The clone's solitary bronze band spun wildly around his wrist, smoking with blinding friction as it absorbed the concentrated recoil.
Inside the bedchamber, the demon child slipped from her cot, clutching a smooth slate wedge she retrieved from under her mattress.
She stood in the open doorway, watching the sentinel's silhouette begin to waver and fray into wisps of glowing bronze vapor.
The duplicate did not dissolve blindly, nor did he abandon his sworn post to escape the agonizing feedback consuming his form.
