The Watchtower trembled.
Stone cracked beneath the weight of Knox's arrival, each step branding molten sigils into the obsidian floor. The heat was unbearable, reality warping around him like a mirage forged in the heart of a volcano. Flames coiled around his form alive, serpentine, whispering with hunger. But beneath the wildfire, beneath the apocalyptic aura, there was a deeper current.
Purpose.
Knox wasn't here just to burn the world.
He had come to claim Cambria.
She stood at the apex of the Hall of Fire, behind her the bound form of Subject One its mechanical limbs twitching, the sigil-forged alloy chains glowing dimly in protest. Her back was straight, her golden eyes unwavering even as the stone beneath her boots hissed from the heat. The crown of ash and flame that marked her ascension shimmered faintly, more defiance than glory.
"You shouldn't be alive," she said quietly, as the fire reached her hem and recoiled.
