The fragile balance that hung on the edge of destruction, like a spider's web suspended over a bottomless abyss, each faint breath pulling at an unpredictable future.
The infusion of gray-white energy had ceased, but the tiny spark it left behind in the dead ashes had begun, in its own peculiar way, to breathe silently. Its faint pulse was subtly agitating the taut nerves of global powers.
Abyss of the Riverbed, Dark Gold Palace.