The Dominion was no longer a shadow on the horizon. It was here—raw, undeniable, and already sinking its claws into the Fork.
The air surrounding Kaito, Mika, and Nyra warped as Dominion buildings cropped up from rents like deformed puzzle pieces snapping into alignment. Charred spires sprouted from the horizon line, their roots sinking into the ground like arteries, pulsing with an unnatural rhythm.
Red lights throbbed at their peaks, casting ripples of hostile energy across the fractured landscape, painting the earth in hues of blood and ash.
Mika's sword hand tightened, her knuckles whitening around the hilt. "They're stabilizing the zone," she said, her voice taut with urgency.
Her eyes darted to the shifting terrain, where the Fork's once-fluid shapes—rivers of molten color and ever-shifting dunes—were hardening into cold, mechanical symmetry. The Dominion wasn't just attacking. It was remaking.
