The transition through the "Veins" of the Earth without the twins to act as a stabilizer was not a journey; it was an execution of the senses. Without their golden resonance to buffer the raw power of the Ley Lines, my physical form was shredded into a billion screaming data points and hurled across the continent at the speed of thought. I felt the tectonic friction beneath me, the cold weight of the oceans, and the jagged, electrical static of the dying cities. It felt like my very soul was being dragged through a field of broken glass.
When I finally materialized, I didn't land. I collapsed.
The air in the Vane Spire’s penthouse garden was no longer sweet with the scent of jasmine. It smelled of ozone, scorched polymer, and the metallic tang of high-caliber munitions. I hit the marb
