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"What world?" Stralchus shouts. "You've killed the world."

The pistol cracks, knocking you to the ground; a split second later, Alexius shoots the mystic out of his throne.

That didn't feel good. You try to rise. No, nothing feels right now. You can't stand or see. Somewhere nearby, Stralchus slides out of his throne, dead. For a moment you lose consciousness. You awaken to Therko cradling you.

You feel Vecla working to save you. Then you realize she's stopped. Your wounds have defeated her. "You missed it," Therko says. "You missed the mountain hitting." He helps you look up. The northern sky is a wall of flames in every possible color. You see a twisting ribbon of darkness dancing in the fire. Its joy seems infectious.

"Crowchar," Therko says, his voice unsteady, "you don't have long. I'm sorry."

There's activity all around you. The Specular is here. Dr. Sabbatine, in fact, is here, unloading what seems to be an entire city through the rift.