The transition from the cold, frozen vacuum of the London Ark-Ship to the blistering, kinetic energy of the Mediterranean corridor was a leap into a furnace. As the *Hesperus* pushed its brass engines to the point of structural failure, the *smell of the Roman rain* was a scorched, ozone-heavy ghost, instantly vaporized by the "White-Fire" wake of the Lunar Vessel. This wasn't the black glass of the scouts; it was a ship made of "Pure-Information," a blinding, translucent needle that didn't move through the air so much as it deleted the distance between the moon and Masada.
Lila stood at the helm, her hands fused to the vibrating steering column, her emerald-veined skin glowing with a frantic, incandescent gold. Beside her, *the sound of Ethan’s jagged breathing* was a deafening roar thro
