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They all feel it as the second kingdom falls, its legs cut out from beneath it.

It is a great rumble throughout the Eastern Continent, as the earth itself is groaning in terror. The towering pines of the Wyusan Wilderness tremble and shake, the icy mountains of the Yaepak Range crumble, avalanches of white roaring their fear. In the Yongwangguk Sea, a weary lobster falters as the sea’s sandy floor trembles, small cracks splitting and growing and stretching.

A small boy in Sunpo wails as the grimy kingdom shakes, as the unstable huts just outside of Fishtown cave in on themselves, as the Boneburrow’s jumaks and pleasure houses shudder. He clings to his appa, who holds him tight with hands sore and calloused from the building of the Goddess of Wrath’s temple.

On the Sanyeongto Battlefield, a terror-stricken Dokkaebi emperor lurches away from Imugi venom as the serpents hiss in celebration, golden eyes shining with triumph. No , he thinks. No, no, no—

A girl trapped within the intricate planes of the mindscape falters on the stairs she climbs, hands flying to her mouth as she feels it, too, that horrible assertion of victory. Trembling, she begins to run faster, taking the stairs three—then four—at a time, but the staircase seems to stretch on forever and ever and ever…

In the hidden pocket-realm of Gyeulcheon, a muzzled advisor staggers in his apothecary, clutching his staff tightly, knowing what has occurred and wishing desperately his poison had worked, his weapon had hit true, and that his emperor was more selfless than he is, than he has potential to be.

Not far away, in the sickbay, a Gumiho chained to a healer gasps in surprise as battle-weary Dokkaebi soldiers appear from Iseung, heads bowed, a victory lost. The healer takes in the injuries, the burned flesh and weeping eyes, yet can barely move as he listens to those horrible words of defeat…

Bonseyo’s emperor chokes in surprise as the ground quakes, the floor roiling. Once he has gotten ahold of himself, he shouts for his guards, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck.

And far above, in the realm of the gods, the moon goddess and her brother exchange glances of discontent.

“The Dokkaebi has failed,” she says, stroking the flaming fur of her Bulgae.

“You know what we must do now,” replies her twin. “We gave him the luxury of another chance. Now he has none.”

Dalnim sighs. “Of course,” she murmurs. “But I will not take any pleasure in his death.”

Haemosu unsheathes his golden sword. “I will,” the sun god whispers, and a shadow darkens his face as he glances down to the burning realm below.