Clearly too it came to me that in this contest between the two was epitomized all the vast conflict that raged around them; that in it was fast ripening that fruit of destiny of which Ventnor had spoken, and that here in the Hall of the Cones would be settled--and soon--the fate not only of Disk and Cross, but it might be of humanity. But with what unknown powers was that duel being fought? They cast no lightnings, they battled with no visible weapons. Only the great planes of the inverted cruciform Shape smoked and smoldered with their sullen flares of ochres and of scarlets; while over all the face of the Disk its cold and irised fires raced and shone, beating with a rhythm incredibly rapid; its core of incandescent ruby blazed, its sapphire ovals were cabochoned pools of living, lucent radiance. There was a splitting roar that arose above all the clamor, deafening us even in the shelter of the silent veils. On each side of the crater whole masses of the City dropped away. Fleetingly I was aware of scores of smaller pits in which uprose lesser replicas of the Coned Mount, lesser reservoirs of the Monster's force. Neither the Emperor nor the Keeper moved, both seemingly indifferent to the catastrophe fast developing around them. Now I strained forward to the very thinnest edge of the curtainings. For between the Disk and Cross began to form fine black mist. It was transparent. It seemed spun of minute translucent ebon corpuscles. It hung like a black shroud suspended by unseen hands. It shook and wavered now toward the Disk, now toward the Cross. I sensed a keying up of force within the two; knew that each was striving to cast like a net that hanging mist upon the other. Abruptly the Emperor flashed forth, blindingly. As though caught upon a blast, the black shroud flew toward the Keeper--enveloped it. And as the mist covered and clung I saw the sulphurous and crimson flares dim. 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. 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.