Sensing the light dim, Lumian hurriedly opened his eyes.
The black robe lay charred on the altar, resisting the golden flames licking at its edges. Yet still it struggled to stand, like a cursed puppet refusing to die.
The translucent faces of Reimund and the others flickered in and out of existence around him, ghosts trapped between the present and a future obliterated.
"Down!" Ryan bellowed.
Lumian dropped without hesitation. If there had been time, he would have thrown himself flat to the ground.
Leah and Valentine were a heartbeat behind, scrambling to duck.
In the same instant, Ryan plunged the Sword of Dawn into the altar's heart, piercing the robe.
Silently the broadsword shattered into a resplendent storm of light, tearing the altar asunder.
When the radiance cleared, Lumian peered up to find the altar a ruin, reduced by a third. Candles, thorns, and black cloth had vanished, ground to dust floating on the air.
