The red sky fell like a collapsing mountain.
A kilometer of weeping crimson gravity screamed down from the clouds, blotting out the moon, the stars, and the peaks.
Beneath its suffocating descent, the frozen defile groaned in agony.
Granite boulders ground to gray flour beneath the sheer atmospheric pressure.
Kaelen Vance stood at the center of the broken gatehouse bridge, wearing his green flannel bathrobe and sheepskin slippers.
The downdraft whipped the hems of his robe against his shins, yet the surface of the peppermint tea in his porcelain cup remained perfectly still.
Minute Three of the 14,410x Burst Window was already ticking.
Kaelen took a calm sip of warm broth, swallowed, and tapped the silver band of his spatial storage ring.
