At the summit of the cathedral's tallest spire, the Chained Man floated, suspended within his cocoon of glowing iron.
He basked in the roar of the battle and the storm of suffering that was taking place in Edenhold.
Chains swirled around him, absorbing pain, fear, death, blood, conflict, feeding his ascension like fuel to a sacred fire. His eyes were closed, his arms stretched wide, his soul unraveling into something new. Something beautiful.
And then, it stopped.
It felt like someone had jerked him out of nowhere.
He was like a bystander, watching as the resonance razed through his conduits, snuffing them out in an instant.
The cocoon of chains fell still.
The Chained Man opened his eyes.
He looked up. Felt the sudden absence. The silence.
And he screamed.
The roar shook the cathedral. His body snapped back in place with backlash as the ascension collapsed.
The infected, the funnel through which he sucked in as much blood and conflict as he needed, were gone.
