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Burned, charred, desolate. The earth glows white hot with spent power. Flame ambers, explosives, counter-seals. An endless arrangement of stones, gems and keys. The Vortex is eerily quiet, following the the cacophony of explosions. The doll stands at the edge of the smoke and debris, silently observing. The rumbles from the edges of the earth grow ever louder. The tomb stands in stark contrast. Still buried, deathly silent. Several small shards fall from doll's body, spent, shattering on the remains of the tiled ground, turning to ash and scattering in the faint wind that remains. The rest rearrange themselves to cover the emptiness within, as the cracks between them all widen just a bit more. The void continues devouring the unraveling dream that is Nexus. The figure is gone. The devastation remains. The edges continue to fray. | |