Moving through the zero-gravity expanse of the Crystal Genesis Throne needed a strange rhythm of magnetic anchoring and spatial driving force.
The air at the planet’s core was so dense with tightly packed aether that it behaved almost like an overload fluid. Every step Arthur took along the floating ridge of emerald quartz sent rings of semi-clear turquoise light rippling into the surrounding void. Beneath his boots, the stone path hummed with an ancient deep ring. The shaking hum of Earth’s main spirit vein channel, running uninterrupted since the birth of the world.
Beside him, Vesper prowled with feline fluidness. The silver-furred lynx moved without disturbing a single dust particle on the crystal surface. Her tail, tipped with a razor-sharpened hardened blade, twitched in smooth, silent arcs. Her liquid-liquid silver eyes remained locked on the titanic shadow spanning the center of the geode. Every few paces, her whiskers flared. It caught the scent of something that didn’t belong in the world-size womb—an astringent, rotting odor reminiscent of rotting copper and ozone.
Grimm stayed half a pace behind Arthur’s left heel, his broad, matte-black skull lowered in a hunting stance. His carbon-dense coat absorbed the turquoise glow of the crystal towers. He cast him in an outline of pure shadow. He didn’t growl. An experienced alley fighter knew that sound was a resource to be spent only when jaws were about to close. Instead, his black lips twitched slightly. He exposed two inches of serrated ivory whenever a cross-current of void-tainted…
