The moment the light receded, Arios was standing again.
Not falling. Not suspended.
Standing.
The surface beneath his boots was firm, matte-black, warm but not soft. It carried a subtle vibration, like a distant engine running beneath the ground. The chamber around him no longer resembled the vast lattice of light from before. Instead, it had condensed—compressed into a narrower, more deliberate space, shaped with intent rather than scale.
The ceiling was low enough to be visible, arching overhead in smooth curves. The walls were lined with segmented panels that looked almost metallic, though no seams or rivets were visible. Faint lines of green light ran through them like veins, pulsing in a slow, synchronized rhythm.
The voice did not speak again.
Instead, the environment responded.
Arios took a step forward.
The floor shifted.
