The sky cracked.
It didn't break; it only cracked like a mirror hit with a hammer, jagged lines spreading through the heavens as if even the sky couldn't bear witness to what was happening below.
The core on Malik's chest screamed.
Not a sound anyone could hear with their ears—no, it shrieked in light. White blinding light. Flaring like the birth of a star and tearing across the battlefield, waking the dying, silencing the panicked, and forcing everyone into further stillness.
Then the pressure shifted.
And it wasn't subtle.
It was like someone flipped the world upside down.
The snow around Malik began to swim upwards.
The camp's air got thick—thicker than before.
Malik's body began to pulse with Aether.
And this pulse was not just a flash.
It was a long, dragging thump.
A heartbeat that spread in every direction, splitting the ground beneath him.
His long hair lifted slowly, weightless. His skin glowed faintly—not with his usual warmth, but with absolute cold.
