Under that pulse of power the Emperor staggered, spun--and spinning, swept Norhala from her feet, swung her close to its flashing rose.
A second throb pulsed from the cones, and mightier.
A spasm shook the Disk--a paroxysm.
Its fires faded; they flared out again, bathing the floating, unearthly figure of Norhala with their iridescences.
I saw her body writhe--as though it shared the agony of the Shape that held her.

Her head twisted; the great eyes, pools of uncomprehending, unbelieving horror, stared into mine.
With a spasmodic, infinitely dreadful movement the Disk closed-- And closed upon her! Norhala was gone--was shut within it.

Crushed to the pent fires of its crystal heart.
I heard a sobbing, agonized choking--knew it was I who sobbed.

Against me I felt Ruth's body strike, bend in convulsive arc, drop inert.
The slender steeple of the cones drooped sending its faceted coronet shattering to the floor.

The Mount melted.