The road south didn’t exist anymore.
What used to be asphalt was now a mosaic of glass and living roots, pulsing faintly with blue veins. The closer we got to the Ascension Tower, the more the world forgot it was supposed to be dead.
Trees grew from streetlights, their leaves humming with electricity. Abandoned cars had fused into coral-like shapes. Every step forward felt like walking through a body that was learning to breathe.
Kira led the convoy on foot. Holt and five of his Disconnected followed in a battered crawler vehicle that coughed black smoke. I walked beside her, eyes fixed on the horizon where a thin blue column split the sky.
The Tower.
Even from this distance, it looked impossible an aurora solidified into architecture, its spire vanishing into clouds that pulsed
