The core remained secure within its containment chamber.
Vora stood stiffly at the entrance to the vault, her blade trembling in her grasp, sweat dampening her brow. The forces of the Church had been decimated, driven back by Eidolon's final charge and overwhelmed by the sudden arrival of the Ember Guard. Strewn across the cobblestone street were bodies: some twisted in agony, others unmoving. Not all of the fallen were enemies.
She had pushed herself beyond safe limits. The spatial magic she had channelled to cut through the SS-ranks had drained her vital energy. Her legs felt like lead; her vision blurred at the edges, making the shadows dance unnaturally. Yet, despite her exhaustion, the core's shadowed surface remained undisturbed, still sealed tight, still within her grasp, still her responsibility to protect.
