Failure

Retreat

You run, the Last Duchess at your side. You are fast, but they have wings. You are two and they are many. Though they divide to search for their lost prisoner, there are still sufficient to harry you in the air.

You emerge into the High Sancta, bloodied and torn. They may seek to edit what is, but they were content to only spill your blood. And in such quantities.

You can hear their wings again. They are coming. Ahead, the galleries where the Apocrypha wait in their niches of violant.

Shadowy is increasing…

Wounds is increasing… (+3 CP) Out, out! (Sets Firmament to 335 - Within the Upper Sancta)