They lay together, the three of them, behind the broken concrete, and time became a plate consisting only of edges. Rhea had pressed the module into the crack that smelled of earth. Her fingers glided across the touch strip as if fastening a soft collar around a wildcat's neck. "Two more," she said without looking at the numbers. "I don't count in seconds. I count in breaths."
"Then breathe," Alaric murmured. His gaze hung on the skyline: the mast's lattice, thin as quills, the gleaming dome that made the air shimmer slightly. The dark oval remained in the sky as if it had painted itself onto the inner surface of the dome.
Lina briefly pressed the chain against her skin beneath her collar. Infinity. There was nothing magical about it; it was just a shape she could hold onto until the next tone came. Deep inside, where yesterday there had been light, now lay a silence that wasn't empty. Like snow before someone walks on it.
"One," said Rhea, exhaling. "Two."
