The sound of the Vance Manor’s protective dome fracturing was not a loud explosion, but a high-pitched, agonizing shriek of dying magic. It echoed through the opulent marble halls, vibrating in the teeth of everyone cowering inside.

In the central atrium, the massive, sapphire-hued wardstone that

The journey through the lower city was a descent into hell. The armored carriage violently bucked and jolted as it plowed over debris, shattered cobblestones, and occasionally, things Caelum forced himself not to identify.

Outside the reinforced glass, the city was dying. The Rift Storm was a mael

The wind howled through the lower city, carrying with it the metallic tang of ozone and the terrifying, bone-rattling shrieks of the Rift Sirens. Yet, at the base of the High Citadel’s grand emergency gates, a suffocating silence had fallen over Caelum Vance.

He stared up at the raised dais, his ja