The silence that followed the collapse of the Salt Spire was thick, heavy, and tasted of iron.
I lay in the freezing grey slush of the shore, my lungs burning as they pulled in air that no longer felt like ice, but like liquid heat. Above us, the bruised grey of the Sisters' sky was being torn apart. It wasn't the golden dawn of the Hallowed, nor was it the violet twilight of the Eclipse. The horizon was a deep, bleeding crimson, a color so visceral it looked as if the atmosphere itself had been flayed open.
I looked down at Kaelen. He was draped across my lap, his white hair stained with salt-dust and my own blood. He was so still that for a terrifying moment, I thought the vacuum of the Void had finally claimed his last breath.
"Kaelen," I whispered. My voice didn't sound like mine. It was lower, vibrating with a tectonic resonance that made the water around us ripple in concentric circles.
