Cold mountain air drifted through the Seventh Tower’s lower fire-chamber at noon on Day 31.
Outside, the hundred-foot black-iron sky-galley hung motionless over the First Spire. Its massive shadow blotted out the daylight, plunging the central plaza into perpetual, freezing twilight.
In the corner of the basalt chamber, Sera Thorne was moving in total silence.
Her bone daggers flashed through the dim light like silver vipers.
She lunged, twisted, and rebounded off the stone wall without making a sound. Her breath was steady, her gray eyes locked on an invisible enemy.
For thirty full days, Sera had stood guard over Kaelen Vance’s divan.
She had eaten the purified spirit-food prepared by Old Barnaby. She had drunk the soul-cooling tea from Linnea’s high mountain gardens.
Most importantly, she had spent an entire month steeped in the profound, tranquil resonance of the True Fallow Dao.
