The tower didn't glow. It didn't hum. It just kept growing until the clouds had to make room for it, a silent, impolite line of architecture drawn straight into the sky.
I let Grey rise. A familiar cold slid along my nerves, and the world sharpened. Space thinned, and my vision cut through the afternoon haze like a knife through silk. The surface of the tower resolved into a dizzying braid of curves, a language of shapes that pretended not to be letters until you stared too long and felt them staring back.
'Dammit.'
"This feels like the Infernal Armis," I said, my voice low.
Six heads turned in the living room. No one talked over the name. The Infernal Armis had helped midwife the Second Calamity. You don't forget that kind of fire, or the silence it leaves behind.
"But it's not a Mythical artifact," I added, forcing my mind to stay analytical. "It's a film. A coating."
Rachel caught up fast, her expression hardening. "Is it her?"
