They clash, each landing blows simultaneously. The
ignescent collision shakes the world. Chunks of black marble
and broken buttress rain down from the quaked ceiling. Fractal
surfaces break and shatter like porcelain. The high windows of
the Court blow out in showers of coloured glassaic, letting in
the red glow of the warp and permitting a giddying view of
Terra, blistered and enflamed below.
The Old Four squeal in alarm, and then applaud. Father and
son.