The fall was endless.
Selena's scream echoed, swallowed by the abyss as her body plummeted into nothingness. Her fingers clawed at the void, desperately reaching for Dante—but his warmth was gone. The echo of his name choked in her throat. The air around her burned—not from heat, but from the pressure of divine judgment closing in like a vice.
Then—impact.
She hit the ground like a meteor, a violent crash that sent cracks webbing through the obsidian soil beneath her. Sparks exploded in the air, and the scent of burning roses filled her lungs. Her back arched in pain, vision dancing with gold and black stars. But she was alive. Bruised, shaken, and surrounded by death, but alive.
