The lattice light swept through everything, burning the world away.
Nyra didn't know if she had shut her eyes or if sight itself had been stolen from her. The battlefield was gone. The Dominion soldiers were gone. Even the cries of her friends, the voices calling her name, had vanished. All that was left was whiteness—so endless and blinding it seemed to erase the very memory of color.
But one thing still remained.
The hand in hers.
It was cold. It was shaking. And it was familiar—so familiar that it kept her from falling apart in the void.
"Kaito…" she whispered.
When Nyra's vision finally settled, she realized they were standing in a place that wasn't really a place at all.
Endless halls stretched outward, made of light that curled and folded back on itself like an infinite maze. It looked like a cathedral, but not one of stone or glass—this one was alive, built from threads of glowing code that pulsed and shifted as if breathing.
