The transition from the lush, artificial tranquility of the Fortress-Gardens to the crushing, infinite verticality of the Singularity-Well was a descent into the plumbing of God. As the golden platform carrying Lila and her family dipped below the event horizon of the central black hole, the *smell of the Roman rain* was a screaming, spectral presence, the scent of water hitting the very first atom of the universe. This wasn't the data-density of the Galactic Core; it was "Pre-Information," a state of being where the laws of physics were still a rough draft, vibrating with the potential of a billion different realities that had never been allowed to breathe.
Lila stood at the edge of the platform, her fingers interlaced with the child’s. Beside her, **the sound of Ethan’s jagged breathing
