The black-glass tower didn't just rise; it vibrated, a monolithic tuning fork driven into the heart of the Icelandic shelf. The air within the Blue Lagoon dome was no longer sulfurous; it was ionized, smelling of ozone and the *smell of the Roman rain*, a scent so thick it felt like walking through a flooded cathedral. The turquoise water of the lagoon had turned a deep, obsidian black, reflecting the fractured sky above where the "New Architects" hovered in their silent, predatory airships.
Beside Lila, *the sound of Ethan’s jagged breathing* was a frantic, wet rattle against the silence. He was leaning against a silica-crusted rock, his gray eye fixed on the child, who sat in the sand with a terrifying, serene focus. The baby wasn't playing; he was drawing a complex, fractal circuit in
