Chapter 11, Final Part

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Silence reigned over the Ruby Palace at last. Only the occasional choked sob broke the heavy hush.

Decus glanced toward the steaming bathhouse pool where his wife and five children knelt in prayer on the crimson mosaic floor. They were well. Thank the Eternal Radiance his family was safe.

But weeping grew around him, overwhelming the silence. His heart ached as others in the subterranean bathhouse consulted the Caeles for news of absent loved ones. The fragmented information, incomplete and grossly delayed, could only tell part of the horrific worldwide story. Reports about the fates of distant settlements would not be accessible for many hours without the Trellis to facilitate communication. But the local Compendium already showed deaths in nearby villages, towns, and cities. Everyone would be mourning someone today. Many of his subjects had already been plunged into black pools of grief.

Decus coughed dust particles from his lungs. "Damage report, Basilicus," he asked wearily.

"Um... Um, a moment, please, Augustus," the new acting Princeps Worldholder murmured. The old Pyrrhaei Trellis expert squinted at the Caeles stone cupped between shaking, wrinkled hands, a dusting of bathhouse ceiling turning his bushy hematite brows white. "I... I... The delay, Augustus, it's--"

"Breathe, Basilicus," Buccina soothed. She had dropped her illusions to spare the promenia, the burn scars Decus barely recalled hidden beneath a cascade of smooth black hair. "The worst is over. Breathe."

The Princeps Mindholder's words were a lie, of course. The worst was still yet to come. Soon, the world humanity knew and depended upon would unravel. The repercussions of this cataclysm would reverberate throughout history.

If humanity survived to record any more history.

Decus pushed the grim thought away. He must take this catastrophe one moment at a time, one day at a time. He forced himself to study the Pyrrhaeus beside him as the man struggled to make sense of the fragmented messages the Caeles delivered to the stone.

Collis straightened. "There... there are some reports, Augustus," he said at last. "Just from our ten neighboring capitals, but we may be able to get some preliminary estimates based on their experiences."

"How many yet stand?" Decus asked, heart in his throat. If the worldholders had failed...

"All ten survived intact, Augustus. They are reporting only a handful of deaths in the capitals, though more in their farmlands. Fires from smaller Trellis stones appear to be the primary cause."

"And the Trellis?"

"Reduced to rubble, Augustus, but hanging securely suspended in promenia nets," Collis said after a moment. "The hottest wreckage should supplement sunlight for a few days until we can salvage the material for use in crop lights."

"How long will the stones that reached the surface continue to burn?"

"A couple of days, provided they are not in contact with other stones, Augustus. They fuel one another somehow, but the Trellis stone decays quickly to less corrupting materials, thank the Eternal Radiance. However, we must keep people away from them as much as possible until worldholders can gather the fallen stones up into the nets. And we must scour away the soil in their vicinity."

Decus nodded. Princeps Oliva had warned him about such. People exposed to the stones' cell-warping energies would sicken, especially Pyrrhaei. Lightholders were immune to the deepest corruptions, but among those without prometus, the damage could pass from parent to child for generations.

"And what about--"

"Wait," Collis gasped, then blushed, stammering. "F-forgive me, Augustus, but... but there's news from the Onyx Palace."

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