Everything was quiet for a few blessed weeks. Merrill moved the rest of her Clan to the ruin in the Frostbacks, on the far side of one of the eluvians. Isabela, nervous, got her ship ready to set sail, but didn't leave just yet.
Privately, Abigail fortified her home, and she knew Fenris, Aveline and Varric were doing the same.
Anders tried to get as many mages out of the city as he could, avoiding the underground as he was no longer sure how he could trust them. Justice clamored in his mind, howling for blood, for vengeance, filling his head with a fog of righteous anger.
He wasn’t sure how much longer simply aiding in escapes would work. The words of Sister Leliana rattled in his head—do nothing, wait, wait—and made his blood boil. There must be something he could do.
Meredith and Orsino were still arguing with each other frequently, sometimes having screaming fights right up to the Chantry, where the Grand Cleric would settle it. It made the atmosphere...tense.
A clear storm was brewing, and it was by Anders' hand that the stormclouds broke.
So he went to the Chantry.
He had not asked Abigail for help with his latest project—he knew she would never understand. She was a mage as good as he was, and would know what the components for his spellwork would be used for.
It was dangerous for him to be here, he knew. Elthina doubtless knew his face, but it was a risk he had to take. He wandered the Chantry, looking for key places to put his spellwork.
The explosives would be messy, nothing like the gaatlok the Qunari used or the blasting runes that the dwarves did. They would damage the Veil and cause more fire than blasting force, but he hoped they would do the trick.
“Anders.”
Anders jumped and looked over his shoulder to see Grand Cleric Elthina standing behind him. He hadn't heard her approach.
“You remember me?” he said, trying to act nonchalant. Of course she remembered.
“I could not possibly forget, my child,” Elthina's smile was soft and gentle and utterly, utterly dangerous.
“You know I'm a mage,” Anders hissed. “If you've known--”
“Why not call the Templars?” Elthina tilted her head back. She took several steps until she was right in front of him. “Oh, child, Meredith knows as well.”
Anders stared at her, slack-jawed. He sucked in a shaky breath. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you are doing good work,” she assured him, patting his forearm. “I couldn't take the healer of Darktown away from the people so soon, so harshly. It would upset them. And I think you should know the answers, since you have come to me now.”
He stepped back, not understanding what she was talking about. “But—Karl--”
“Oh, poor Karl,” Elthina tutted. “A clumsy snare, when we were still trying to find all of Surana's Wardens. Before we knew what good work you do. And before the other Wardens fled.”
“Why do you care so bloody much about Darktown all of a sudden?” Anders demanded. “You never did before--!”
“The people of Darktown are frightened of Templars and Circle mages,” Elthina said, looking sadly down at the ground. “And sadly, the Sisters and Mothers of the Chantry are not well-versed in the healing arts. You are the perfect solution.”
Anders shook his head. “This doesn't—this doesn't make any sense—you got Bethany Hawke, too, she's a healer--”
“Oh, the Hawke girl, such a dear,” Elthina said. “Such a kind girl, but she hadn't been putting her healing gifts to a great use. We thought she would be disruptive.”
“But I'm not?”
“Anders,” Elthina spoke very calmly, as if speaking to a child. “Do you know where the mages you sneak out of the Circle go to?”
Anders went dead white.
Elthina nodded, her expression pitying. “They return to us again. I am sorry for the deception,” she said, and she sounded truly sorry. “But it had to be done.”
“Why—why would you--”
“A whole city can be a Circle if it is made carefully enough,” Elthina explained. “Meredith doesn't quite see that, the poor dear. But she will. You cannot force people to listen to your teaching, you see—you must show them. And if we took the beloved healer of Darktown away, well, we would only be showing them that we are to be feared.”
“And are you not?”
“Of course not, my child. But we cannot have mages running around freely, where they may hurt someone, so we intercepted your underground, and any other moves you might have made. They are all quite safe now.” she smiled, satisfied. “They believe enough in your underground that there is not another one. All is kept in balance.”
“You—imprison us, torture us—keep us locked away from the sun, steal our children--” Anders snarled.
“Anders. You exaggerate.”
Anders' face twisted, and he raised his hand--
Only to have the Grand Cleric aim a crossbow at him. She had pulled the weapon from the folds in her robes, where he had not been able to see it in the darkened hall.
“Don't, my dear boy,” she said gently. “Please, do not do what you are trying to do.”
Anders hesitated, and then he began to close his hand--
And an arrow thudded into Anders' chest, and Anders fell back. He looked down, feeling a faint sense of surprise.
In his mind, Justice began to uncurl himself, and sent blue fire pouring through his veins when another arrow slammed into his shoulder.
Justice was—something cut Justice off, bloody and painful—Anders choked as his mind went dark and cold, fires blown out like a dead star, and everything grayed at the edges--
Elthina shook her head, her expression one of utter sorrow.
“Magebane in the arrowheads,” she explained. “I'm sorry, my lad. I know it must hurt terribly. But you can’t run, as the others did.”
There was blue fire behind Anders’ eyes, and the world came back into focus in a rush, forcing Anders to his feet. Justice whispered in his mind, furious, and clarity returned to Anders as blood trickled down his chin. He began to walk towards the door, pain lancing his every step.
Elthina followed. He could hear the sound of her soft slippers on the marble floor. He came to the great double doors, and pushed one open, then collapsed to the ground, no more strength left in him.
At the bottom of the stairs, Orsino and Meredith were screaming at each other. They had been fighting all the way to the Chantry, where they meant to make the Grand Cleric settle their disagreement. Aveline was desperately trying to mediate, and had called in Abigail for backup.
Then the door to the Chantry opened.
At the top step, someone stood, unclear in the dim evening light. Then they fell backwards, sprawling on the steps.
Abigail recognized the person immediately.
“Anders?” she breathed.
Anders didn't move, and with horror, she saw the two arrows sticking out of him. One in his chest and one in his shoulder. Blood began to pool, staining the white steps.
“What--?” Orsino gasped, confused.
Abigail bolted up the steps, Aveline hot on her heels.
“What—who did this--?” Abigail looked at the fletching on the arrows, hoping for something she could recognize. “Anders--”
Anders grabbed her hand. He tried to speak, but he choked on blood.
“Merrill,” Abigail whispered. “I—I need Merrill, Aveline--”
Aveline sent one of her guards tearing for Abigail's house, and Orsino was at their side as well.
“I know some small healing,” he said, laying a healing hand on Anders' chest. “Who did this? In the Chantry, who would dare--?”
“First Enchanter, you know better,” Elthina strode out of the Chantry, crossbow in hand.
“Grand Cleric?” Aveline breathed.
“Meredith, my dear,” Elthina called. “I am afraid this poor lad threatened my life. Please, take care of him, will you?”
Meredith looked surprised for a moment, then scowled and nodded. She came up the steps, hand on the pommel of her sword. Abigail threw up a barrier between her and Anders.
“No,” Abigail snapped. “Don't you dare.”
Meredith looked outraged. “Stand aside,” she snapped.
“If he threatened the Grand Cleric, he's under the authority of the Guard,” Aveline said quickly, standing between Meredith and Anders. “He's a criminal.”
“Apostates come under the Templars before anyone else,” Meredith snapped, moving to stand chest-to-chest with Aveline.
“The Grand Cleric--”
“Defended herself.”
“It's her word against a mage's!” Abigail said. “This—I don't understand, this doesn't make any sense—he would never--” she cut herself off.
Anders just might.
Anders tried to speak again, blood pooling at the corners of his lips. His eyes flashed Justice blue for just a moment.
Anders raised one bloody hand, and clenched his fist.
Everything was silent for a moment.
Then the Chantry erupted into flame.
There was a great and terrible roar, like the cry of Asha’bella’nar, and a brilliant red light, and then pieces of brick and mortar were raining down all around them. Meredith ducked, holding her shield above her, and Abigail, panicked, cast several barrier spells at once.
Finally, the roaring stopped, and all was still.
Abigail, gasping, let her barrier fall. Anders, Aveline, and Orsino were all fine, all caught under the barrier.
Meredith had a cut on her forehead, and the Grand Cleric stood at the bottom of the steps, a long red gash on one arm, but otherwise she seemed unhurt.
Meredith's blade sang, gleaming with red light, and one could see the threads of red lyrium embedded in the fine silver of the blade.
“You--” Meredith snarled, rounding on Anders, her naked sword in one hand.
Anders managed a strange half-smile, blood trickling from his lips. “Didn't see that one coming, did you?” he whispered, the first words he'd managed so far. His eyes glimmered blue again, before he closed them.
“Anders?” Abigail felt his chest, but his breathing had slowed to an unbearable crawl. His eyes flickered blue under their lids, as if Justice were trying to wake, but couldn't. “No,” Abigail breathed. “Oh no, no, no—not again--”
“Abigail...” Aveline put her hand on Abigail's shoulder.
Elthina walked down the steps. Elthina's face was as calm as it ever was, even with the fiery light of the Chantry behind her.
“Meredith, my dear,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to where Orsino stood. “I do believe the mages of this city must be taught the consequences of their actions.”
Orsino stepped back. “Grand Cleric—we didn't—this wasn't--”
Elthina shook her head, expression forlorn. “I am sorry, Orsino,” she said with a sigh. “I believe I made the wrong decision. Your people must learn that there are things they cannot do. I call for an annulment of the Kirkwall Circle.”
“But we didn't do this!” Orsino cried. “This wasn't our fault!”
“Meredith,” Elthina said.
Meredith's face fell. “But—the apostate--”
“Was our duty. This pains me as well as you.”
Meredith steeled her shoulders. “I am sorry, Orsino,” she said, her expression forlorn. She drew her sword.
Orsino backed away, hand out. Magic flickered at his fingertips, and Meredith raised her sword--
Only to have Abigail strike her in the chest with a spell.
“No,” Abigail snapped, getting to her feet. “No more. No one else is going to die today!”
“That is not for you to decide, my child,” Elthina said
“Yes, it is,” Abigail snarled. “You can't do this.”
“This is absolute madness, Grand Cleric,” Aveline said. “We need to restore order—we cannot waste time on annulling the Circle when we may need them!”
“Meredith, dear,” Elthina said. “The Guard-Captain and Lady Hawke are being obstinate.”
Other Templars began to appear, presumably summoned by the Chantry explosion. There were far more of them than there was anyone else.
“Abigail, come on,” Aveline grabbed Abigail's arm. “We need to go--”
“No,” Abigail snarled. “No, no--”
Aveline hauled Abigail down the steps, then for good measure, grabbed Orsino as well. She bowled over a Templar who stood in their way, but for the most part the Templars were still disorganized and confused.
Aveline ran for the Guards' barracks. Fenris and Merrill met them on the way.
“What happened?” Fenris asked.
“Oh, ma vhenan, you're covered in blood!” Merrill touched Abigail's arm. “It's—but it's not yours.”
“It's Anders',” Abigail said, her tone harsh.
“What happened?” Fenris demanded now, grabbing Aveline's shoulder and looking from her to Abigail.
“The apostate...” Orsino breathed. “The Grand Cleric shot him, then he was the one who destroyed the Chantry.”
“Is that what that fire is?” Merrill asked, her green eyes enormous as she stared at the orange glow of the fire.
Orsino nodded.
Fenris shook his head, disgusted. “Where is he?” he growled. “Where is the abomination?”
“Dead,” Aveline said, looking away. “If he wasn't before, surely...” she trailed off.
“It was Elthina,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “Elthina shot him. She had a crossbow...”
“Why did she even have it?” Orsino wanted to know. “She's the Grand Cleric—priestesses know nothing of weapons and warcraft, nothing--!”
“What do we do now?” Merrill asked.
“I'll try to get to the barracks,” Aveline said. “But--”
Varric met them, suddenly, almost running into Aveline.
“Oh, Andraste's ass, glad I caught up with you!” he exclaimed.
“Varric? What is it?” Abigail said.
“Heard some ruckus is going on,” Varric said. “Listen—Templars are swarming the barracks, some fighting with the Guards, thought you should know--”
Abigail cursed.
“Where to now?” Fenris asked.
“They haven't gotten to Lowtown or the dockyards yet,” Varric said. “Maybe we can meet Isabela—someone want to explain what this is all about?”
It was faster to get to the docks, so they went there first, explaining the situation to Varric on the way.
“We should go to the Gallows,” Orsino insisted. “I need to help my people--”
Abigail nodded. “I need to find Bethany,” she said. “We can get to the Gallows from the Docks. Maybe we can use Isabela's ship...”
They met Isabela at the docks, who was running to meet them. She already knew something was dreadfully wrong, with the Guards fighting Templars in the streets and the massive fire burning in Hightown. She was two steps ahead of them.
“My ship!” Isabela said. “If we get to my ship, we can--”
Just as they got to the dock where Isabela's ship was, flaming arrows fell from the sky, striking true and lighting the ship's sails aflame.
“My ship...” Isabela whispered. “Oh, no...”
More flaming arrows caught the wood, the bow and the stern, and soon the entire boat was aflame.
“Isabela, what about your crew?” Varric asked urgently.
Isabela ran to the ship, and began helping people off. “Most of them aren't on it now, thank the Maker,” she said. “Come on, bloody well help me!”
Two elvhen figures, one a redhead and one a blonde, appeared over the side.
“Varania!” Isabela shouted. “Orana—are you two--?”
Varania supported Orana, and they stumbled towards the group. Orana had a large burn down one side, and Varania was gasping and out of breath.
“Orana...” Isabela breathed, and went to her side to try and help her. “Merrill, can you--?”
Merrill was there at once, pressing bloodied hands to Orana's side.
“The Gallows,” Orsino said urgently. “We need to get to the Gallows!”
Abigail, Orsino, Merrill and Varric hopped in a smaller boat to head to the Gallows, while the others stayed to try and guard the docks.
The Gallows was already in an uproar.
The message about annulment hadn't come through clearly, and both mages and Templars alike had seen the fire from Hightown and the docks and were in a panic. The Knight-Captain was attempting to keep order, but without Meredith and Orsino his orders had little power.
There were people running, fighting, shouting at each other—even one strange couple, a woman in haphazard Templar armor and another woman in equally disheveled Circle robes who ran out of the gates hand-in-hand when Abigail and her group came in. Orsino glanced after the couple with a frown on his face, but his attention quickly turned to the chaos in front of him.
“First Enchanter!” Cullen ran up to them, hair a mess and his breastplate scuffed with a stray burn mark.
Orsino held his staff out, between himself and Cullen. “Knight-Captain.”
“What is going on?” Cullen demanded. “We heard an explosion, then Evans came tearing through the gate, bellowing his bloody head off about annulment--”
“So you don't know what's happening?” Abigail interrupted.
Cullen shook his head. “Meredith hasn't come back--”
Orsino narrowed his eyes. “And if there was an annulment, Knight-Captain,” he said. “What would you do?”
“I'd follow the Commander’s orders, of course,” Cullen said. “Why, what's--”
Orsino struck him over the head with his staff.
Cullen fell, blood gushing from a wound in his head. Orsino bared his teeth. “Templar filth,” he snarled to himself.
He stepped over Cullen's body, and began rallying the mages. The Templars seemed to realize something was going wrong, but without Meredith or Cullen's command, they couldn't organize.
Not until Meredith arrived, anyway. She was ten minutes behind them—Orsino had no sooner gotten the courtyard settled when Meredith charged through the gates, naked sword in hand, eyes burning.
She helped Cullen to his feet and there was a pause while the Templars and the mages surveyed each other.
“Do not do this,” Abigail came to the forefront of the group. “Please, we don't have to—this does not have to happen.”
“I answer to a higher power than you,” Meredith said. “We must be vigilant.”
“Commander—what warrants this—annulment?” Cullen asked. He was still bleeding and looked a little dazed. “I have seen no blood magic, no demons--”
“As if you would notice,” Meredith rolled her eyes. “It does not matter. It is what Elthina has called for.”
“Why?”
“Do you doubt the Grand Cleric?”
“No, I just--” Cullen stared between her, and Abigail, and Orsino, and back again. “I do not understand what is happening--”
Meredith moved forward, blade in hand. “Then I believe you are in familiar company, but it matters little.”
Abigail slammed Meredith back with a spell, and the fight began in earnest. Abigail, Merrill, Varric, Orsino and several battle mages kept the Templars back, while the mages attempted to escape. The fight was vicious, bloody—for every Templar that fell, so too would two mages. People on both sides looked far too young or too old to be fighting, and soon the Gallows was on fire, as surely as the Chantry.
Meredith was wickedly fast, her eyes burning with red lyrium light, and her opponents fell before her. As she fought, she gained a strange aura, red, sickly and terrible, and the Veil was ragged and torn around her person.
Orsino's palms dripped with blood, and with a gesture he broke Templars' backs and tore the blood from their veins.
It was apparent both of them had been dabbling in things that were forbidden and dangerous.
The fight dragged on and on, mages and Templars wearying, but at last it became apparent that there were no mages left alive still in the Gallows. Or, at least, if there were still any there, they could not be rescued.
Abigail and her group ran out, Abigail dragging Orsino behind her, to get to one of the last boats by the gate.
When they got back to the docks, things were not in a good way. Bethany had made it out of the Gallows, but her reunion with Abigail was not a happy one. Templars were still converging on the docks, and just about every wooden building was on fire. Backfired spells had built up ice or a static charge on some surfaces as well.
“Where are we going now?” Abigail shouted over the noise. “We can't stay here forever!”
“The eluvian,” Merrill said. “We need to get to the eluvian!”
“The what?” Orsino demanded.
“Magic mirror,” Abigail explained. “Come on—back to Hightown!”
They ran, in a scattered and failing group. Merrill was at the head, as she knew the fastest route.
“We can go through the Alienage!” she shouted. “To Darktown, then through the cellars! If we go the normal way, they’ll catch us!”
It was true. The Templars knew the way to Hightown well, but it was easier to lose them in Darktown. The Alienage would provide another obstacle, as well as give Merrill time to warn them. It was entirely possible the Templars would attack the Alienage, knowing how elves tended to have higher numbers of mages in their population.
Lowtown was not on fire or being attacked yet, but the Templars were hot on their heels.
Aveline and Fenris were at their backs, fending off the oncoming Templars. Unfortunately, this left them very open for attack.
Aveline cried out, pain bursting white-hot behind her eyes as an arrow pierced her back, sinking into a weak point in her armor. She dropped her shield, and tried to reach for the arrow, but stumbled.
“Aveline!” Fenris called. He faltered, turning to face her—and an arrow slammed into his shoulder. He bellowed in pain and staggered, lyrium markings pulsing erratically as he tried to phase the arrow out.
“No,” Abigail shouted. “No!” Merrill halted, turned, and Abigail waved her on ahead. Abigail went and tried to pick Fenris up, and Varric and Isabela went for Aveline.
“Fenris, come on!” Abigail insisted. “Come on—you two can make it, it's just--” she looked up. The Alienage was still quite a ways away, down several staircases and through the twisting streets. Darktown was even further, and the Amell cellars were up a long, long stair. “It's nearby,” she promised.
“That's a lie, Abigail,” Aveline choked out.
“Come on,” Abigail urged. “Come on, I'm not losing anyone else!”
“Abigail, go,” Aveline insisted. “We'll hold them back. Get out of here—go to the Divine, you need to tell them--”
“Tell them yourself!”
“Abigail,” Aveline gave Isabela a feeble push. “Run, dammit!”
“We can't just leave you!” Isabela snapped. “Bloody well come on, Big Girl—nn!” an arrow sliced open her thigh, just missing the muscle and landing on a cobblestone ahead of them.
“Go, dammit!” Aveline snapped. “Go on, Pirate Girl—please!”
Varric and Isabela looked first at Aveline, then Fenris, then the line of Templars closing behind them.
“Will you just go?” Fenris snarled.
“No,” Abigail insisted, even as Isabela dropped Aveline and dashed on ahead as best she could on her injured leg. “Look, we can't just--”
A Templar was close enough to take a slash at Varric, who dropped Aveline and leaped back. The Templar advanced on Varric until Abigail shoved her back with a spell, but others quickly closed the gap.
A Templar caught Varric with a blow to the head, sending him to the ground, and Abigail screamed their names even as she was forced back. Eventually she could no longer see her three downed comrades, and she turned and ran.
Abigail tore into the Alienage. It was burning as well, some of the tenements lit on fire by flaming arrows—the whole damn city seemed to be burning.
There was something of a panic here as well. Hahren Josiah and Merrill spoke urgently with each other, and Abigail and Isabela caught up with them.
“Oh, vhenan, Isabela, you’re here, good!” Merrill breathed a sigh of relief and looked over their shoulder for the others. She frowned. “Where’s--?” Merrill asked, and Abigail shook her head.
“We had to leave them,” Isabela said, as Abigail couldn’t speak.
Merrill hesitated, then continued to speak to Josiah. “Is there anyone who should leave?” she asked. “Should you all leave? I’m sure we could get you out, if--”
Josiah shook his head. “No, all the apostates left with your people, Merrill,” he assured her. “We can’t just up and leave.”
“But--”
“Templars!” bellowed a woman standing on the roof of one of the taller buildings. “Coming this way!”
“Merrill, go,” Josiah said.
“Hahren--” Merrill said.
“Go, Merrill,” he told her. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, before urging her on ahead. “Go, before those mages all get themselves lost!”
“I--” Merrill’s expression hardened. “Of course, Hahren. Dareth shiral.”
“Sal sura, Merrill,” he told her. “Now bloody well get out of here!”
They went through to Darktown.
Darktown was in an uproar similar to that of the Alienage, but without any leaders to corral the chaos. People rushed about, confused and uncertain. Anders’ clinic had many people going in and out of it, but the healer was, of course, nowhere to be found.
They pushed their way through the crowds to the Hawke family cellar entrance.
The cellars were dark, but not too difficult to navigate. They burst out into the mansion, and Merrill rushed to the eluvian, lighting it up with a spell.
“Come on!” Merrill gestured them to the eluvian. “In, in in! Hurry!”
Abigail stood by Merrill, leaning heavily on her shoulder.
“Do you think Varric—or Aveline—or Fenris--?” Merrill asked.
Abigail shook her head. “Aveline and Fenris took arrows,” she said. “And Varric had a Templar right on top of him.”
Orsino stood by them, overseeing the exit of the other mages who had followed them. Many of them were lost at this point, the flight from the city being as disorderly as it was.
“This...mirror...is safe?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at it.
“We don’t have much choice, do we?” Abigail asked him.
“It’s safe,” Merrill assured him. “It makes humans sick, but not fatally. They’ll just feel awful.”
Orsino didn’t seem convinced, but it was true that they hardly had any choice in the matter.
When the Templars burst through the door, that was when Merrill, Abigail and Isabela had to go through too, regardless of who was still left outside.
In the Crossroads, they had some reprieve, as the Templars wouldn't immediately come through, but it wouldn't last for long.
“How can we make sure they don't follow us?” Abigail asked.
Merrill closed her eyes. “I can close it,” she said. “But we won't be able to use it again.”
Abigail took her shoulders. “Do it.”
Merrill took a deep breath, and held out her hand. The the mirror went slowly dark, the soft sounds it emenated growing silent. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Well...where do we go now?” Abigail asked. She had to lean on Merrill for support, as her head was already starting to feel the effects of the Crossroads. Isabela and many of the human mages looked sick as well.
“This way,” Merrill said. “We go to my Clan.”
She pointed to one of the eluvians which glowed a dark blue.
“What about after that?” Isabela murmured.
No one could answer her.
Much later, the sun rose, staining the clouds a deep, bloody red. There was still some fighting in the city, but now that the majority of the mages were dead or gone, it was starting to quiet. The city was in mourning after the loss of the Hightown Chantry, and the sense of grief was palpable. The nobility were shocked that Lady Hawke—their Champion!--had fled Templar justice, taking so many of the mages with her as well.
Grand Cleric Elthina waited in a smaller Chantry in Lowtown. She sat at a bench by an enormous stained glass window, watching the sun rise.
“Grand Cleric,” Elthina turned to hear Meredith come in.
“What is it, dear?” she asked.
“Hawke—and several of her—compatriots—escaped,” Meredith said with a scowl. “We managed to capture the dwarf, the Guard-Captain and one of the elves.”
“Which one? The blood mage?” Elthina asked, hopeful.
Meredith shook her head. “The Tevene,” she said. “The one who was working as the Qunari translator.”
“Ah, well,” Elthina gave a tiny sigh. “I suppose that will have to be enough.”
“What do we do now, Grand Cleric?”
“We call the Lord Seeker, of course,” Elthina said. “Things are moving much faster now.” she looked out the window. “Perhaps too fast. One can never quite tell.”
“As you wish, Grand Cleric.”
Elthina did not see the red gleam in Meredith’s eyes, or if she did, she made no mention of it, keeping her gaze fixed on the window.
If one listened, they would hear it—the sound of the world waking up. The sound of something breaking.
The abyss loomed, and the brilliant, brilliant light of the dawn was fast approaching.