Everything moved in one argument: battle line, boss husk, the tidy plinths and their harmless bells. The floor split like wet paper under a careful tear. Weight ran out from under boots. The ribs above shifted into a new sky, wrong and immediate. The Whiteways opened their hand and let them go.
He fell into a rain of bone and silk and angry dust.
Rodion reached him before the air could bite. The lotus chain in his palm snapped hard-light into a sling with a cruel grace.
