Julian Ravenscroft sat at his sprawling mahogany desk, the silence of his penthouse office amplified by the city’s distant hum. Moonlight, stark and unforgiving, spilled across the ancient parchment lying before him. It was a map, or rather, the skeletal remains of one, given to him by Elara a week prior. Faded, brittle, and smelling of damp earth and forgotten incense, it felt less like an artefact and more like a physical manifestation of the crushing weight on his shoulders.
He traced a hairline fracture in the parchment with a fingertip. Just a week ago, he thought, I was celebrating the completion of the Tokyo Skybridge. Now I’m a glorified treasure hunter, saddled with a cosmic burden. His life, once a meticulously crafted blueprint of steel and glass, had shattered, replaced by a c
