"You already know how this ends. You've seen it. You've felt it."
Above us, the meltdown twisted, arcs of swirling color forming a silhouette in the vortex. My lips pressed into a tight line. Belisarius. I knew that shape, that resonance. I recognized the half-manifest presence that threatened to cross the threshold from illusions into raw existence. The dryness in my mouth flared; I refused to let a flicker of dread show on my face.
Before I could move, the Harbinger raised a staff I hadn't noticed before. Or perhaps illusions had disguised it until now. The meltdown roared like a storm, illusions layering themselves into the air with each pulse. My arms ached, my lungs begged for relief, but I forced them into compliance. We clashed, swords against illusions, staff against steel. The meltdown's shrieks turned the entire chamber into a haze of fractal chaos.
