They were snuffed out.
The Keeper fell! Upon Norhala's face flamed a wild triumph, banishing despair.

The outstretched planes of the Cross swept up as though in torment.

For an instant its fires flared and licked through the clinging blackness; it writhed half upright, threw itself forward, crashed down prostrate upon the enigmatic tablet which only its tentacles could manipulate.
From Norhala's face the triumph fled.

On its heels rushed stark, incredulous horror.
The Mount of Cones shuddered.

From it came a single mighty throb of force--like a prodigious heart-beat.