Instinct Made Flesh
Madeline
The glyphs finally stopped burning.
One moment, the cathedral had pulsed with molten light—symbols etched in ash and blood ignited, and the next, everything went still.
There was no wind.
No sound.
Not even a breath.
It was as if the world had taken a single inhale and forgotten how to exhale.
The heat that had surged as the glyphs flared vanished. Not gradually— not a slow ebbing of power but like a flame pinched out between godly fingers. All that remained was the scorched stone, sweat cooling my skin, and the all too familiar scent of a copper tang from magic being spent too quickly. The shadows that had surged across the room like an ocean tide now slunk back into their own corners and cracks, retreating from the hollow hush that followed.
I stood
