Page 98 of She Who Was Severed

Too late.

The first strike hits the Tribunal dead center. A column of flame pours from her chest like breath weaponized, slamming into the dome with enough force to bend steel beneath stone. The glass doesn’t just shatter—it vaporizes, caught mid-glisten before it’s gone. Heat rolls off the impact like a pressure wave, igniting scrolls inside before the fire even touches them. The dome folds inward a second later, molten seams caving as the spine of the building gives. It doesn’t explode. It crumples. Like it’s been holding its breath for years and finally exhales. We’re already turning when the base caves in and takes the justice hall with it.

The Chancellor’s tower is next.

I don’t speak. I don’t have to. She’s already diving.

Her chest flares once, and the top floor ignites from within. Scrolls, sigils, inked promises—gone before the outer walls catch. The roof peels back with a whine, and the whole building exhales as it dies.

The Ministry takes precision.

I lean forward. “Cut it clean.”

She answers with fire.

The dive is a straight vertical. No spiral. No flourish. Just power. The impact shakes my molars. Wards scream once, then split like ice. Statues crack at the spine. Support beams buckle. The building tries to hold. It doesn’t.

It folds without drama.

Not with sound.

With surrender.

The heat bleeds outward in waves. Alley glyphs combust on contact. A tower at the edge flares without warning—not even targeted. The fire just found it. By the time it starts to lean, I’ve already moved on.

There’s a moment—only one—when I think about her.

Not to stop.

Not to mourn.

Just… to know what she’d see, if she looked up right now.

And for one breath, I wish she could.

Then I bury it. Hard and deep. Because this isn’t for her.

It’s for what they did to her in my name.

No civilians. No homes. No children woken screaming. I counted. I planned. Every strike is surgical. Controlled. And still brutal enough to make them remember.

Only Council strongholds. Only those who carved lies into my seal and aimed them at her like blades.

Below, the guards try to rally.

They don’t get the chance.

My shadow hits first.

Their orders die in their mouths. Their formations fracture before they finish turning.

I don’t pity them.

I don’t pause.

The fire slows when there’s nothing left to judge. No roof tall enough to matter. No record left to rewrite. Just ruin. The kind that speaks for itself.

I pull her up hard.