The silence came first. Then the screaming.
Marcus was in the clock tower when it happened—standing vigil, watching the threads of connection pulse with steady golden light. The bridge was strong. The Foundation was whole. Everything was as it should be.
Then the threads began to fray.
It started with a single thread—one of the newer ones, woven during the bridge's rebuilding. It flickered, dimmed, then snapped with an audible crack that echoed through Marcus's consciousness. He felt the pain of it, sharp and sudden, like a splinter driven into his soul.
He reached out with his senses, trying to understand what had happened. The thread had been strong. Perfect. There was no reason for it to break.
Then another thread snapped. And another.
Anna burst through the clock tower door, her
