The air inside the grand round hall tasted of shattered time.
Every three seconds, reality inside the continent-sized chamber hitched backward by three seconds.
A breath inhaled was forced back out into the lungs. A dropped drop of blood rose from the black iron floor and settled back into Lin Ke’s blistered palm, only to fall again a moment later.
The time stutter was like listening to a scratched vinyl record spinning in an empty cathedral.
Lin Ke stood at the cliff edge of the watching balcony, his teeth clamped tightly on the inside of his lip to maintain mental focus. The time rough churning pulled at his Congenital Vitreous Glass Spirit veins like rhythmic tugs on a taut piano wire. It sent dull spikes of nausea through his gut.
Before them, rising five hundred miles into the crystal-clear vault, stood two huge ancient entities.
*
To the left was The Avatar of Creation—the cosmic Write Thread, known in mortal scripture as Nuwa or the Great Mother of Genesis.
