The chamber groaned as if sothing vast exhaled through the tower’s bones. Dust and shards rained from the ceiling, the blue-lit spires quivering. The Monarch’s howl pressed into the stone, into the marrow of the walls, rattling Mira’s teeth until her vision swam.
Elena clutched her tighter. “We have to move before it finds us.”
Mira’s hand burned again, the shard in her flesh answering that distant call. Her veins lit like rivers beneath her skin, pulsing in rhythm with the tower. A voice whispered just for her, slipping between her thoughts: Open... bleed... welco...
She staggered upright. The words weren’t commands anymore. They were possibilities.
Elena shook her head, fear cutting through the dust. “Don’t listen. That’s how it gets in.”
“It’s already in,” Mira whispered. Her voice had an echo, a faint tallic undertone that wasn’t hers. “I can feel it breathing through .”
The ground split with a crack. One of the spires toppled, smashing to pieces, and from the fracture a flood of black ichor surged, writhing with skeletal limbs. They clawed upward, screeching, their bodies twisted parodies of life. The Monarch’s breath had summoned them.
Elena drew a jagged shard from the rubble, holding it like a blade. “Then we fight our way out.”
The horde advanced, shrieking. Mira raised her palm instinctively. Light seared outward—blue, cold, unnatural. The ichor creatures convulsed, their bones shattering under the blast. Elena froze, stunned, the glow casting Mira in a silhouette that was no longer fully human.
Mira’s hand shook as the light faded. “I didn’t— I didn’t an to.”
Elena’s eyes were wide. “It’s using you like a weapon.”
Mira’s breath hitched. “Or I’m using it.”
The tower trembled again, this ti with a rhythm like footsteps. The Monarch’s approach was no longer distant; the air itself quaked with each pulse. Shadows warped across the walls, elongating into shapes that didn’t match either of them. The gate—the tower’s heart—was opening wider.
Mira turned to Elena, her expression torn between terror and resolve. “If I fight it, I lose. If I give in, maybe I can control it. Maybe I can turn it against him.”
Elena grabbed her shoulders. “No. That’s what it wants. That’s how it wins.”
Mira’s lips pressed into a thin line. The shard in her hand throbbed, impatient, like a second heartbeat urging her forward. “Then you have to stop before it’s too late.”
The words hung between them, heavy as stone. Neither could say them again.
The chamber split open, walls tearing like wet flesh, and a flood of cold light poured in. From that rupture, a shadow of impossible size slithered forward, crowned with three skulls, each screaming in unison. The Monarch had arrived.
Mira’s veins lit brighter, answering its call.
And Elena realized with horror that she might lose her friend before the Monarch even touched her.
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