The air crackled with dissipating energy. Fragments of silver, twisted and blackened, lay scattered on the ancient stones of Stonehenge, the last vestiges of the Serpent's Signet. Ethan, lungs burning, collapsed onto the damp ground, the taste of bile and ozone still clinging to the back of his throat. Professor Armitage, his face etched with exhaustion but alight with relief, knelt beside him, offering a shaky hand.