A tremor like an earthquake rolled through the star-iron floorboards as the outer rings flared to life.
Ten miles above the open roof of the Hall of Edicts, the star-sized cauldron began to spin.
A ring of pale crimson flame ignited along the rim of the Primal Source Furnace.
The fire did not crackle like wood or hiss like oil. It thrummed with a low, bone-deep resonance that vibrated through the marrow of every living cultivator in the Upper Firmament.
A blood-red shadow fell across the ruins of Moon Nine.
It stretched downward, bleeding past Moon Eight, Moon Seven, and the outer satellites until all six lower stages were bathed in an eerie scarlet twilight.
Sera Thorne gripped the cracked shaft of Storm-Pike, her knuckles turning white.
“The sky is burning,” Mina whispered, stepping closer to Kaelen’s shoulder.
