The jagged scar across the sky screamed with a sound that felt like teeth grinding against cold iron. It was a spatial rift, a raw wound in reality that pulsed with a sickening violet light, and it was currently tearing the atmosphere above the Grand Palace into shreds. Massive chunks of marble and gold-leafed masonry were being sucked upward into the vacuum, swirling like autumn leaves in a hurricane. Below, the survivors of the Syndicate’s elite were huddled against the walls, their faces pale and their eyes reflecting the end of the world. Nicolás did not move from the throne. He kept Renata settled on his lap, his arm draped possessively over her waist while his other hand adjusted the collar of his ruined coat."Is it just me, or is there a terrible draft in here?" Nicolás asked, his voice cutting through the roar of the collapsing sky.Renata looked up at him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her silver hair was whipped into a frenzy by the gale-force winds."Nicolás, the