On the shattered Middle Wheel Platform.
The illusory white-gold figure of Master Shen dissipated like the last light from a closed bottle, the scent of drink and danger lingering in his wake.
The Fold Dwellers stood still.
No words.
Only the soft hum of destruction remained!
Bob's shoulders sagged under a weight that wasn't merely grief- it was something heavier.
More final. His fingers trembled against his robes, eyes staring into the sky that no longer held answers. Only the faint smear of where Noah had vanished into white-gold brilliance.
"He's gone..." he said quietly, "What… What are we supposed to do now?"
Thauron didn't answer right away. His obsidian gaze swept across the ruins. The corners of his mouth twitched- whether in distaste or contemplation, even Bob couldn't tell.
Then, slowly, Thauron blinked.
"We do what we always planned," he murmured, the words low and sharp. "Become slightly bigger fish."
