The doors to the Architect’s study didn't just open. They unpeeled like dried skin, revealing a hallway that stretched into an impossible, non-Euclidean distance. Standing at the threshold was a silhouette.
Not the Echo, nor the Sentinel, but a figure draped in robes of shifting, liquid light. It held a quill that pulsated with a terrifying, rhythmic vitality.
"You have a habit of trespassing, boy," the figure said. Its voice wasn't spoken. It was felt, a vibration that threatened to liquify Lucien’s bones. "You destroyed a city of millions to reach a room that wasn't meant for mortal eyes."
Lucien stepped forward, the floor beneath his boots feeling like solidified time. He felt the bond with the women tighten. Selene’s pulse hammering against his own, Seraphina’s mind projecting a pr
