A mist of white marble dust blanketed the Capital like a ghostly fog. The Great Cathedral, once a symbol of celestial arrogance, was now nothing more than a heap of shattered stone. The agonizing hum of resonance had finally vanished, replaced by a deafening silence.
From beneath the wreckage of the altar, a hand clad in a black iron gauntlet emerged. Harold de Croul crawled out, his black armor crushed at the shoulder and blood leaking from his ears due to the immense sonic pressure.
He coughed, spitting out grey dust. His eyes immediately scanned the debris.
"Rainnes!" Harold croaked, his voice raw.
In the center of the cratered ruins, Rainnes Juoi lay still. The mercury gown she wore had lost its luster, turning into a tattered, dull fabric. Harold approached and checked her pulse. There was a heartbeat—weak, but steady. The girl had fainted, but Anne's blue crystal had done its job: protecting Rainnes' central nervous system from the backlash.
"You truly are stubborn, Brother."
Harold froze. He turned his body slowly, his broken sword held ready in his hand.
From behind a plume of smoke, William de Croul appeared. His golden armor was now filthy, and his handsome face was marred by a deep gash across his cheek. Yet, he did not look like a defeated man. Instead, he let out a short laugh as he wiped blood from his lip.
"Cathedrals can be rebuilt, Harold," William said, his eyes glinting with madness. "But your betrayal? The people will remember this as the day the Northern General tried to slaughter them, and I—the Prince—am the only one left to tell the truth."
"The people are not stupid, William," Harold growled. "They saw what happened. They felt their energy being drained."
"The people only believe what they hear," William held up a remaining fragment of the golden thorn crown. "And now, they will hear that you kidnapped the Saintess to destroy their faith."
Suddenly, the roar of cannon fire echoed from the direction of the harbor. William stiffened. That was not the sound of Imperial cannons. It was a heavy thud, a frequency Harold knew all too well.
"That... is Anti-Resonance Steel from the West," Harold whispered.
Aboard the flagship that had just docked at a secret pier, Anne Marie Vain stood composed. She held an alchemical megaphone capable of broadcasting her voice across the entire Capital.
"People of Ourem!" Anne's voice boomed, cold and authoritative. "Prince William has betrayed you. The Cathedral you worship is a life-siphoning machine. We bring grain from the North and medicine from the West. Do not seek salvation in empty prayers; seek it in real bread!"
Beside Anne, Julian operated the levers of the broadcast engine. "All evidence of Valerius' architectural documents has been distributed to the districts, Milady. The people are moving toward the palace—not to worship, but to demand answers."
Anne glanced at her pocket watch. Click.
"William thought he could control the narrative," Anne murmured. "He forgot that economics is a more honest language than religion."
Back in the ruins, William heard the shouts of the mob drawing closer in the distance. His once calm face turned deathly pale. His plan to become a "Hero" had been shattered in an instant by Anne's information strike.
"This isn't over," William hissed. He pulled out a small dagger coated in a black liquid—venom from The Lesser Key of Solomon.
But before he could take a step, Harold was already in front of him.
"It is over, William," Harold said coldly. "You no longer have a stage for your performance."
Without hesitation, Harold slammed the hilt of his sword into William's temple, knocking his brother unconscious. Harold then hoisted the still-unconscious Rainnes onto his shoulder.
"Julian, pick us up," Harold said into his communication device. "We're leaving before the angry mob levels this place."
Amidst the chaos, a new dawn began to break. Not a dawn blessed by a holy song, but a dawn built upon the ashes of betrayal and realistic hope.