Page 168 of Architecti
Bright pain explodes in my chest.It sears white and hot and burns from the inside out.
And then there is only freedom.
Darkness plummets over my vision as my body disintegrates, and the last thing I see is the devastation written on Midnight’s face.
50
Midnight
Time’s Up
Inever thought death could be beautiful until I hold Lucy in my arms as she dies.
Her expression is serene, her eyes closed and peaceful as particle by particle she dissolves.I grip her, pleading, holding tighter, forcing her to stay.I use every ounce of my strength to fight to keep her.But the more I cling, the faster she fades until she’s nothing but a swirling mass of sparkling dust and runes.
And then she’s gone.
My hands clasp at nothing but air, and I’m screaming and screaming and screaming.
Ignatius fights his way past wraiths and students and shredded sections of the Veil to reach me.
“What the hell did you do?”he bellows.
“She made me,” I say, my face streaked with tears and sweat and heartbreak.
The ground ruptures, accompanied by a thunderous crack as if the earth itself shrieks.It floods the campus in a tsunami of noise.I lurch forward into Ignatius, the pair of us thrown to the ground.
Finis Tower screeches as a jagged fissure carves its way through the building from top to bottom.
Ignatius pales.We scramble to our feet.
Professors and students alike scream.
Finis Tower shudders and tilts.A terrible creaking rents the air.
Like a giant yawning maw, the fissure ruptures into an enormous hole at the heart of the tower.The entire campus freezes and stares up at the tower, transfixed.
Our symbol of power, protection and prosperity is under siege.
Dozens and dozens of mouths hang open, eyes watering as they gaze upon the destruction of Finis.
Brick by brick, our tower, our power and our home collapses in on itself.
The air fills with dust and bricks and shattered slate.And when it’s over, in the silence and smoke, students and professors fall to their knees.Others grab each other and cry.
Only two remain standing: Ignatius and me.
The largest Veil tear I’ve ever seen carves the space where Finis Tower used to stand and haloed in the cut is a figure.
Ignatius sucks in a breath, his eyes bulging as he finally reanimates and backs away, step by step among the rubble and people.
“Run,” he breathes.
But as the figure solidifies, she looks so familiar.
“Thalia?”I say.
But it’s not the professor—she appears, marching down from the churches.She carries a darkness in her eyes that makes me shiver.But what makes me stagger back are the most enormous white wings tipped in black looming behind her.
