C37 The Grief Unbound

The scream echoed like a pulse—rippling through the stone, the roots, the air itself. Evelyne staggered backward, the mask still clutched in her hand, burning cold against her skin. The chamber writhed around them, vines coiling like serpents, the brittle ones cracking under pressure.

Lucien reached for her, but a wave of invisible force hurled him and the others back against the chamber walls