There was no sun in the Underground.
But a star had fallen.
Eclipse stared up at the radiance bleeding through the cracked ceiling. The air around him vibrated faintly, like a drumhead under pressure. He could feel the warmth of the light brushing his cheeks, too soft to burn, too sharp to ignore.
Dust drifted from the rafters like slow-falling snow, and somewhere far off, a stone cracked with a groan loud enough to shake his bones. The faint scent of old incense clung to the stone, overlaying something newer—smoke, ozone, and anticipation. The cathedral glowed like a sanctified furnace, divine light spilling into every corner, setting even the stone to shimmer. But it wasn't the light that made his stomach churn.
It was what it meant.
He could feel it. The plan had started.
