The Master’s chamber was a fortress of absolute stillness, yet the very molecules of the air seemed to vibrate with a high, discordant hum. Nala stood by the tall ulin window, a jagged silhouette of bronze and shadow carved against the pale, bruised sky of the approaching dawn. He had not slept. Not for a single minute. The sun was preparing to rise on the most significant day of his life, but the engine of his soul was grinding on empty, fueled only by the dry, electric fever of pure power
.
He had given everything away. He had poured his strength into Carmelia to shatter the shackles of her lineage, and he had ignited a blinding, intellectual fire in Mayangkara to weaponize her mind. He had been the sun for his Trinity, but in doing so, he had become a hollow shell, his own nerves fray
