It was free. Unchained and moved unfettered. As a huge, sick mimicry of a heartbeat. It pulsed. In its previous iteration, it had been stopped at the confines of a fence and did not need to move more than that.

Then the circumstances of the voluntary confinement were shifted. Its message changed and its motive altered. When it moved it brushed its influence to the deepest part of Sectio. It’s core, mana. Potency rocked its potential back for a sudden push, froze, and then calmed back down. Like the Rattle almost froze everything for the briefest of times and then continued on.

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Most did not notice it’s passing. They lacked the factors to sense the sudden flex in the world structure. The minute faction that had the influx in their perception, did not pay heed to its passing. Fewer still knew what it meant.

Those who not only understood the meaning could read its intention. It’s anger. It’s rage. Each shuddered at its intensity. Like there was a sudden glare and it said that it would not stop, would not bend or abide.

The first Death Rattle of The Ninth had echoed the realm.

And then. Like a storm, so potent that even a lesser beings' senses were interrupted. A second ripped and tore.