Date: TC1853.07.12 — Morning
Location: Seven Peaks
The smell of fresh-baked bread drifted up from the communal kitchens.
Raven paused on the walkway between the Verdant Spire and the administrative terrace, letting the scent catch her for a moment. Warm yeast. Honey glaze. Some enterprising cook had gotten creative with the morning rations, and the result wafted across the entire First Peak like a gentle provocation to every stomach within range.
Below, the sect hummed with early activity. Disciples moved along stone paths that the living architecture had smoothed overnight—cracks filled, drainage improved, small flowering plants sprouting along borders that had been bare the day before. The buildings breathed. They always breathed now, growing and adjusting with a quiet sentience that still startled her occasionally. Formation energy pulsed through the network they'd activated yesterday, a faint vibration beneath her feet like a second heartbeat.
