POV: Clara

The sky didn’t open so much as rip.

A gold fracture hissed outward, splitting the clouds like a blade through cloth, widening with a sound that vibrated in my teeth. The air around us went thin—too thin—like oxygen itself was being pulled toward the crack.

The silhouettes pressed closer.

Three.

Then four.

Then more behind them, a shifting wall of long limbs and hollow faces.

Not shadows.

Not gods.

Not alive.

Not ...