Zemphin stood at the shattered edge of the chamber roof, staring into the gaping rift above.
The dungeon was collapsing—its layered runes unraveling like old thread, leaking fragments of light and debris into the black expanse of the void beyond.
He took a breath.
Then let it go.
"Damn it."
Golden lines flared across his skin as his body twisted, cracked, and reshaped.
His human form vanished beneath scaled flesh and radiant muscle—wings unfurled, claws extended, and horns crowned his head like a dark crown.
A sovereign aura blasted outwards from his body.
He was now a dragonkin in full.
Then.
He took flight.
---
The void stretched endlessly around them.
Colorless. Soundless. Soulless.
And at its center, two beings floated—one like a storm caged in black flame, the other like still water before a quake.
Hasral flared his wings.
Every flap sent currents tearing through the void, like claws shredding the fabric of nothingness.
Sion remained still.
