Before the return of hope, the stairwell had become a nightmare.
What was supposed to be a safe route—standard, reinforced, evacuation-grade—had become a shaking coffin.
Students pressed close to the walls, some crouched with their arms over their heads, while others clutched each other as the ground groaned beneath their feet. The building vibrated with every aftershock, as if it were caught mid-scream.
A sharp metallic crack split the panic.
Then came the crystal.
It didn't burst in with a bang. It didn't explode. No, it rose.
A jagged spike of glowing mineral split through the bottom floor like a spear of judgment, threading through the space where a student had just been.
Had she not tripped, she would've been skewered like those very monsters they've been fighting with.
She really could've died.
Screams erupted, followed by the heavy boom of falling debris.
Then darkness.
Dust filled the air like smoke. Someone coughed. Another choked back a sob.
